


Collision Course

by JessicaPendragon



Series: Non Canon Keela Lavellan [4]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Carver/Merrill - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Like REAL slow burn, Slow Burn, Solavellan, as in this is mostly me playing with space and less solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keela Lavellan and her crew are on a mission to find the Elvhen homeworld and the mysterious Flight Lieutenant is only one of her problems.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://jessicapendragon.tumblr.com/post/122016210069/collision-course-masterpost">Tumblr Link</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Log Entry 1

“Alert, alert, alert.”

She wakes gasping for air, lungs burning with the loss of oxygen. The world flashes red as angry sirens blare through bleary brain. Thoughts are scattered in the panic, memory wiped clean in the chaos, so for a few heart pounding moments the only thing known for certain is that everything is wrong. Instincts have her lashing out with arms and legs, but she finds she can barely move, body enclosed in a small space and attached to tubes and wires. She would scream if she could remember how.

“Alert, alert, alert.” The repeating announcement pulls her attention to the small window at eye level. The view beyond is dark and flooded with that ghostly light, but it is the bright yellow words scrolling against the glass that finally snap her back to reality.

*ALERT* *ALERT* *ALERT*

AUTO-NAVIGATION, STATUS: OFFLINE

PRIMARY POWER CELLS, STATUS: REBOOTING

EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS, STATUS: ACTIVATED, REVIVING SENIOR STAFF:

  * Captain Deshanna Istimaethoriel
  * First Officer Keela Lavellan
  * Flight Lieutenant Solas Harel
  * Science Officer Merrill Sabrae



“Shit!” she yells and it hurts to speak after so long silent. “Open, open! Shale, open my door!” Her fists pound against the metal of the pod. With a shudder, it retracts into the ceiling and throws her out tumbling to the grating below. Shaking fingers rip at the wires still connecting her to the cryo-chamber and the task is made more difficult by the way the ground vibrates beneath. “Shale?” 

“ _C_ … _Com..nder_ ,” a robotic voice replies. There is a break before it comes again in a steady tone. “ _Commander Lavellan, how wonderful to hear from you again._ ” 

“What’s happened?”

“ _Running diagnostics now, Commander. Please see to Captain Istimaethoriel. My connection to her chamber is dark_.”

It takes a few stumbling tries before Lavellan can rise to trembling legs. She crashes into the pod to the right of her own, nails digging into the screen’s ledge to pull herself up. The interior is black and it takes a flash of the blinking lights to illuminate the weeping corpse inside. “Fenedhis!” she curses and flies back in surprise. “She’s dead!”

“ _Well that would explain it_.”

“What the hell happened?” Lavellan shouts and moves to the next pod. There is little time to mourn as the alarms grow more numerous. Lieutenant Harel’s cryo-chamber appears intact and she can hear the machine cycling through its emergency procedures.

“ _Main power was disabled approximately five minutes ago. Sixty percent of secondary systems were activated in response_ ,” the A.I. answers.

“How?" 

“ _Unknown."_

"Where are we?”

 _"We are 7 degrees beyond our destination point. You should probably see this, Commander_.” A loud banging assaults her ears as the bridge’s shield retracts. Lavellan covers her eyes against the sudden brightness only to have them widen in shock. A massive planet swallows up the whole window and fills her with icy dread. Shale’s calm voice echoes around the cabin. “ _I suggest immediate action, Commander_.”

“No shit!” Lavellan rushes forward towards the glittering console nearby. “Get Harel out of there, now!”

She does her best to stabilize their bucking vessel as more power cells return to full strength, but they are already caught in the planet’s gravity. The view of the brown and green body tilts away as she commands thrusters to align them for entry. It will buy a few more minutes but they are still coming in too fast. She will never be able to land them safely on her own.

“ _Commander, Flight Lieutenant Harel’s pod is opening_.”

Lavellan returns to the line of cryo-tubes and waits before the sliding door. She barely has time to react as his body falls forward and crashes into her.

“Leiutenant!” she cries, struggling to bring him to the floor without injury. A quick check for a pulse finds one slowly waking from its long slumber, but there is no time for this beauty sleep. Hands grab the sides of his face and shake it gently. “Harel?”

She has never been this close to their pilot. It was only a few weeks before their departure that they were introduced. He came recommended as one of the best, and Deshanna wanted to make sure their operation went as smoothly as possible. Finding the possible location of the former Elvhen home world is a momentous occasion, after all. The lieutenant seems capable, opinionated, distant at first. Their interesting discussion within her quarters brought their orbits much closer together. She enjoys their dance, the subtle hint of mischief in his gaze. What she wouldn’t give to see his eyes right now.

“Wake up!” Lavellan runs her thumbs across his cheek. The ship shakes and strains beneath her as more urgent alarms begin to ring above, but none of it matters if he remains this way. “Please. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

She’ll never know what possesses her next actions. Perhaps it was the memory of his deep voice whispering words unknown to her before cryo, or her impending death, but the First Officer dips her head and brushes her lips against his. They are soft, warm, and a moment later open against hers with a gasp. Lavellan springs back on her heels and watches him struggle with the revival process as she did. When he’s taken a few mouthfuls of breath she grabs him by the collar and tries to catch his dilated eyes.

When he can focus on her features, she watches his brows crease down in confusion. There is something else there, something that makes her breathless. His hand comes up to brush across the vallaslin under her eyes and for a few seconds the only thing she knows is the wide open, blue sky of his gaze. “Lavellan?” he breathes, trying not to break the dream he’s in.

Shale, however, has not forgotten reality. “ _If you are done with this mating ritual, we are indeed still heading towards a painful demise_.”

Lavellan bounds back to her feet and shakes away this thing between them. Whatever it is, it won’t matter in a few minutes if they do nothing. She bends forward and holds out her hand. “Come on, Lieutenant. We have a ship to land.”

art by [tigernaute](http://tigernaute.tumblr.com/)


	2. Log Entry 2

**5 Months Earlier…**

“Please wait here. Officer Harel will be done with his meeting shortly.”

Deshanna thanks the secretary as Keela takes in the office. The trappings are modest, muted, practical. There are no personal effects in plain sight, no pictures of family or kid’s drawings, just paperwork stacked in neat piles and official diplomas. She runs a finger across a side table and feels the slick polish beneath her touch. 

“Not a speck of dust,” she says. “Now I know why you want him.”

“And why is that?”

“He’s safe and boring, just as you like.”

Deshanna’s laugh is short. “You are observant but as always, you don’t see the big picture.”

“What-” as Lavellan turns around the world explodes in color. A large painting hangs at the back of the office, a fresco design depicting the ancient planet of Arlathan in swirling colors and striking lines. No one truly knows what it looks like as their culture clutches to rumors and scraps, but she can see the devotion and desire to make it real in the artist’s elegant strokes.

“In this case, the literal big picture.”

Lavellan glares at her captain. “Very clever.”

She approaches the painting and the comfortable placement of chairs it stands sentry over. Eyes take in the details for a few more moments before something else catches her attention. There is a single item on the low coffee table and she bends down to pick it up. “And he seems to be a collector of artifacts, too. This is one of those old eye hubs before humans developed the Marcs.” The device in her hand resembles a pair of glasses but with only one lens. She turns it over to reveal a flashing red light. “And it’s actually operational? I have to see this.”

“Lavellan-”

She ignores the warning tone in Deshanna’s voice and slips it over her ear. The instrument takes seconds to boot up and the small lens flashes with colors and static. It contracts, sucking tight to the skin around her eye to better integrate with her sight. Soon all the she can concentrate on is the small square of data on the screen. Everything is blurry, as if she is just waking from a dream, but she can make out shapes and colors well enough. A greenspace touched by dusk flashes into existence. Somewhere she can hear water rushing and can almost feel the grass beneath her feet. Lavellan feels torn in two, seeing the real world in the corner of her vision and this new one superimposed.

‘ _You should not have given it to him, my friend,’_  a woman says behind her. She pivots to take in the rest of the scenery and finds a person’s outline pacing back and forth. The more she tries to concentrate on their features, however, the more the world becomes out of focus.

‘ _I thought he could be trusted,”_  this figure says, their tone smooth yet broken with worry. 

_‘How many wrongs will finally make a right, I wonder. Are we fated to always dance the wrong steps?’_

_‘I am sorry, I have doomed them all.’  
_

_‘Don’t be so fatalistic, it is not over yet. I have found…something interesting. A new possibility. I will see where this music might take us.’  
_

_“_ Please remove my artifact." It is the same voices, but it is not coming from the data stream. Lavellan focuses her gaze away from the recording and into the present. Blue eyes regard her with disapproving scrutiny and narrow when she does not comply. “Did you hear me? Take it off.”

The words are slow, painfully enunciated, as if he is speaking to a child. She reaches up and pulls the electronic from her eye, wincing as the membrane refuses to let go off her skin at first. Lavellan drops it into his awaiting hand and takes measure of this Officer Harel. He is an elf dressed in a perfectly creased uniform of brown and green. She can only guess his age, late thirties, early forties. It is difficult to tell and his dour expression gives very few hints. 

“I’m sorry. My commander can be a little too curious for her own good. It’s not damaged, I hope?” Deshanna asks.

Harel does not answer right away but moves towards his desk and deposits the device into a drawer. “What is it you wish to discuss with me, Captain Istimaethoriel?”

“Thank you for meeting with us. Our reason for coming today is of interest to us both, I assure you. I would only ask that if, in the end, you do not wish to join us, you will not speak of what is said today. It will get out sooner or later, but I’d rather be lightyears away before it does.”

“A clandestine mission? I will keep your secret, if only to hear how you could think this would be of any interest to me.”

“To make this short, we are heading a research mission in search of Arlathan and I find myself in need of a pilot. With your unique background, you were the first person recommended. We have a fully funded Tier 4 science vessel and an able crew ready to go. Minus, of course, a suitable pilot.”

“A Tier 4 you say? This is the first I have heard of the government funding an expedition regarding Elvhen culture with such consideration. How did you manage to convince them?”

“One reason is standing right next to me. Let me properly introduce you to Commander Keela Lavellan.”

Harel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he regards her with interest instead of mild annoyance for the first time. “The Herald herself? It is said you single-handedly turned the tide of the war against Orlais at the Battle of Andraste. That your biotic powers were able to decimate whole platoons and the Orlesian captain would only surrender to you.”

“That is what they say,” Lavellan replies.

“May I see it, your Marc?” 

She rolls back the sleeve of her right arm to show the device there. It is a metal rectangle attached to her skin with wires running up the backs of her fingers and one across her palm. Everyone wears a Marc these days to accomplish complex to everyday tasks, the technology replacing the need for several electronics. Modern Marcs are sleeker, faster, while her’s is something quite different, larger but more powerful with its strange tech. If ones believes the human legends, at the climax of the war it chose her to be a beacon against the Orlesian empire, a herald for victory. She only knows it has changed her and the biotics crawling through every inch of her in some way no one can understand. It is a ticking time bomb and the seconds are almost up. 

Harel approaches and glances at the Marc, gaze curious but guarded. A hand reaches out, his own Marc peeking through the sleeve of his uniform, but he does not touch her. “Fascinating,” he says, his voice almost wistful. “It truly does appear ancient.”

“And as you can imagine, the Ferelden government is very grateful to Commander Lavellan for her help in the war. Her involvement has opened many doors for the our people.”

“I admit that you have piqued my intrigue. However, many have attempted to find the homeworld of our ancestors and all have been met with little to no success. Even with your impressive resources, why do you believe you will experience anything different?”

“Show him, Commander.”

Lavellan presses a few buttons on her Marc. A hologram projection appears above her wrist of a slow spinning mirror edged in gold. At the sight of it, Harel takes in a breath, his eyes turning from curious to a hunger that makes her heart ache. “You...have an intact eluvian? But, that is..." His articulate manners stutter and she narrows her focus upon him. Many elves have reacted to this pieces of their culture in a similar manner, but never with such intensity.

“Impossible? Yes, so we thought. But our science officer was able to repair one, though not without great consequence. And when Lavellan's Marc interacted with it-”

“It showed me something,” she says. “A place, somewhere I’ve never seen, and strange coordinates were downloaded.”

“Somehow this Marc and the eluvian are tied together and the implications for that, well, are above my pay grade. We’ve kept the connection secret for now, but this is the first solid lead we’ve had towards finding Arlathan in ages. We must act quickly.”

Harel continues to stare at the image and the mysterious Marc. There is something here- he knows something, and leaving him behind is a risk they cannot take. Her life might depend on it. “Are you in then?” Lavellan asks. 

His gaze snaps to hers. She sees a flash of excitement there, unbridled and intense. Perhaps he is a stuffy bureaucrat, but there is more to him than she first thought. Harel schools his expression back to neutral before answering, the past few moments erased with one breath, but his eyes burn like an afterimage in her memory. “When do we begin?” 


	3. Log Entry 3

_They’re coming_

_…destroy us, there will be nothing left_

_You promised!_

_Vhenan, no…_

_I will see them avenged!_

_They’ve come…_

_Find it_

_“_ Commander? Commander Lavellan?”

_FIND THE TRUTH._

She jerks awake as the voices scream in her mind. Her hands reach out to bang against her cryo pod or tear away her bedsheets, but there is nothing but air to greet her fingers. She’s on the open ground instead, back digging into the metal mesh of the cabin floor. Something soft supports her head and when her vision clears, she finds Lieutenant Harel gazing down at her.

“You were knocked unconscious, but have suffered no lacerations or serious injuries as far I can tell. Please, rest a moment.” His eyes have darkened with concern, a steel blue like turbulent seas. She tries to imagine what they would look like invested with passion, perhaps a darker blue that consumes galaxies or maybe a bright color burning with a fire that-she looks away. Maybe she hit her head harder than he realizes.

“We’ve landed?” 

“In a manner of speaking.”

She pins him with a sharp look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Harel helps her to her feet and she sees stars burst into unfamiliar constellations. Lavellan clutches onto his uniform until the vertigo passes. Everything is tilted and it takes her a moment to realize it is not in her mind, but the ship itself is off center.

“ _He means he’s crashed us into a swamp, Captain.”_ Shale’s voice accuses through the speakers.

“I did the best I could given the circumstances,” he replies with a tinge of defensive irritation.

“What…” Keela takes a deep breath to clear the last of the cobwebs from her head. She looks out of the cabin’s large window, but it is covered completely in something brown and wet. “Give me a report, Shale.”

“ _We have, quote unquote, landed exactly 234.56 kilometers from our initial destination point. There is extensive damage to our landing gear and several but small lower hull breaches. Power is at 57% capacity. One of our engines is currently flooding with pond scum and-”_

 _“_ The crew?”

“ _With the exception of Captain Istamaethoriel, I can report no other other casualties. Would you like me to begin the cryo pod activation sequence, Captain?”_

 _Captain._ Lavellan glances at the blackened pod holding the body of her superior, her mentor. She swallows down the pain creeping tight up her throat. There is no time to grieve, no time to second guess the weight now on her shoulders. “Yes, wake them up.”

“ _Science Officer Sabrae requires your immediate attention.”_

 _“_ All right. Harel, come on.”

It takes a concentrated effort to move from the helm and further into the ship itself. The pair walk carefully, feet skimming against the floor and at times braced against the walls to move beyond debris and deal with the angle of their landing. Sparks fly from loose wires and brush against her uniform or sizzle in her hair and the air smells like burnt ozone. When she hears a frantic banging and muffled yells she sprints the rest of the way to the science bay. The door is half opened, shuttering as it tries to retract or close. The door groans against their attempts and with one final push gives way to their demands. Inside the science bay the floor is littered with broken glass and soil from tipped over plants that escaped from their shelves. Several cryo pods line the far wall and whirl and sigh as the rest of the crew finally awakens. 

“Is anyone there?” a voice yells with accompanying beats against metal. They approach the middle pod and find the wide eyes of the science officer. “Commander there you are! I seem to be stuck.”

“Are you all right?” Lavellan asks as she moves towards the pod’s main console. The pod makes a series of angry beeps and she lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s malfunctioned. We’ll have to open it manually.”

She grasps hold of the lever and pulls, muscles straining against the stubborn metal. With a growl she brings her Marc to life with a thought. The strange artifact glows electric and sends lines of green branches flowing up her exposed arm and down to the other hand. The latch gives way with ease under the pressure of her newfound strength and the door opens with a quiet hiss. 

Sabrae pops out of the pod and pulls the wires and tubes from her skin. “Thank you! That was a bumpy ride. Did we make it?”

“Yes, but we’re not in the best of shape. I need you to get the others up and ready and figure out what happened to this ship.”

“Oh, look at this mess! I can never seem to keep this place tidy.”

“Merrill.”

“Right! Of course, Commander.”

“It is Captain Lavellan now,” Harel says and she resists the urge to glare at him.

“What do you mean? What’s happened to Captain Istamaethoriel? Is she…” Sabrae asks, her wide eyes growing even larger.   

“She didn’t make it," Lavellan says the words but hardly hears them.

“Oh dear, I’m…I’m so sorry-”

“I’m going to go check on the rest of the crew. You find out where we’ve landed and what we can expect from this area. I want to know how long it will take to get us ready to disembark. I’m going to go throw a bucket of water on Oghren.”

She flees from the room, not caring if her orders are followed or if Harel still lingers on her heel. When she reaches the nearest elevator she slams a fist against the button and curses when it remains dark. She brings her fist down again and the green lines of her Marc burst like a lightning strike. “Shale, get this lift working. Now.”

“ _At once, Captain.”_

Harel comes to stand by her side and she can feel his clever eyes crawling over her skin. “What?” she snaps.

“Your Marc. Is this behavior normal?”

“Yes.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yes it’s quite wonderful, brilliant.” Her words are growls as every second the elevator refuses to open her anger grows and grows. Nothing is happening as it should, hasn’t happened like she thought since the day this ancient curse latched onto her wrist. It has brought her nothing but trouble and each time she uses it, she feels another piece of herself lost.

“You were close with Captain Istamaethoriel,” he says and Lavellan feels her anger ignite inside. She turns to him, ready to snarl, until she sees his expression. There is compassion there that makes the lines and valleys of his face soft, beautiful. His eyes are warm like the smooth surface of a sun kissed lake and rage snuffs out as she soaks in them. “Yes. I’ve known her from well before the academy. She convinced me to join when I…She was…”  _Family._  Lavellan looks away, blinking hard. 

Harel moves closer and raises his hand as if to touch her shoulder. At the last moment he seems to think better of it. “Ir abelas,” he says and although she knows him so little, she believes the sincerity in his voice. Or perhaps she merely wants to. It is hard to deny herself some amount of comfort.

“Thank you.”

The corridor falls silent and seems to grow smaller as they stand close to one another. Perhaps some other time she would contemplate stepping nearer, testing the waters of whatever lay between them, but right now she can think of nothing else but the sorrow in her heart warring with the demands of her mind. 

“ _The lift is at full power.”_

The elevator sings to life in front of them and she lets out a relieved sigh. When the door opens, she is quick to jump inside. “Return to the bridge and see what can be done to repair the ship from there. What systems are operational, what are not. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yes, Captain.” Harel pauses as if he might say more, but she speaks her destination and the door shuts without a sound. Removed from his penetrating stare, she slumps against the wall and closes her eyes, willing herself to become as strong and unyielding as the steel against her back. 

“ _Captain, your biotics_ -”

“I know, Shale.” She can feel the green creeping closer, can see flashes of it against her closed lids. The Marc pulses in time with the beat of her heart and she can hear the whispering voices as if they call to her from a distance, yet louder than ever before. Whatever is coming, it is coming for her soon.

_You are our hope…_

_…and we are your only salvation_

_Find us, Keela_

_Keela_

_Keela_

_You are close…_

_but you are running out of time_


	4. Log Entry 4

**4 Months Earlier…**

Lavellan shifts the heavy drawstring bag on her shoulder as she glances through the window of the dry dock. Several ships move in lazy lines further away from the port, but she only has eyes for the one moored in front of the glass. The Tier 4 science vessel is not as sleek or flashy as some government vessels, nor as intimidating as the war cruisers, but there is a simple beauty to how each piece is considered for maximum functionality. There is a large cargo hold to retrieve specimens with plenty of machinery to see it through, heavy engines and thick hulls to make sure they can withstand most conditions where no one else dare go. There is a smaller vessel attached to the top when the need calls to descend to different worlds complete with a fully functioning science bay all its own. Green paint stretches across the nose and flares down the long sides and written in black and white is the name of her new home.  _Haven_. Hopefully it will offer a sanctuary to her plight. The Marc vibrates against her skin and she massages away the green lines that appear above her elbow. If they don’t find the answers to what runs through her veins, the impressive ship will become her tomb.

“So,” Deshanna says as she comes to stand nearby. Her dark eyes gaze out and follow the lines of  _Haven._  “What do you think of our ship?”

“I suppose it will do,” Lavellan answers and the captain laughs, slapping a hand against her first officer’s shoulder.

“Yes I imagine it will.”

“Captain Istamaethoriel.” They both turn to find a group of fresh pressed uniforms and stern faces marching their way. Training has Lavellan straightening her spine at the rank upon rank of ornaments on their shoulders, but Deshanna gives a sigh.

“Here we go,” she mutters before saluting. “Admiral Orsino, General Stannard. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The general’s eyes scan the captain and first officer with cold calculation. Lavellan has never met this infamous soldier herself but has heard plenty of stories of ruthlessness in quelling biotic rebellions from a few years ago. Stannard stands at odds with Orsino next to her, a tall, thin elf with years of service showing in the grey of his hair. There are two persons flanking the senior officers and fists clench to see the Templar sword and Chantry fire on their chests.

“Did you think we’d let you leave without a bit of fanfare?” Stannard replies. “This is, after all, an important mission. We wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed, Captain.”

“Thank you for your concern and all you have provided. I’m pleased to say we will be ready to leave as scheduled and are merely waiting for final checks before departure.”

“Excellent. Let me introduce you to Major Hawke who will be your Templar for the duration of your voyage.”

They shake hands with the heavy armored soldier and Lavellan tries not to flinch when her biotics shiver at his touch. She has never personally had reason to fear the Templars and their abilities to police her biotics, but the tales of untold horrors have made her leery of their presence.“Hawke, hm? Any relation Marian Hawke?”

The man’s jaw clenches. “Yes, she’s my sister,” he responds with a voice edged in restrained annoyance and she wonders just how many times he’s had to answer that question.

“I am also happy to introduce your newest crew member, Sister Pentaghast.”

Deshanna shifts on her feet, an uncomfortable ridge forming between her brows. “I am not aware of any Chantry sister on my crew roster, General.”

“Well, perhaps you should check again?” Stannard says with a smile at the corner of her mouth that doesn’t put one at ease.

Captain Istamaethoriel brings the crew logs up on her Marc, finger scrolling fast through the short list, and frowns when she reaches the end. “Why was I not informed?”

“You are being informed now, Captain. With the possibility of such monumental discoveries that could shake the foundations of faith for us all, it seems only right to have a member of the clergy present to bear witness.”

“This goes against regular procedures, we just can’t-”

“You can and you will. I suppose I don’t really need to remind you how much military support has gone into this expedition of yours? We have almost fully funded your vessel and,” Stannard looks towards Lavellan, “given you one of our most promising cadets. Will this be a problem, Captain?”

Deshanna glances beyond the general to catch Orsino’s gaze. There is angry red painting the tips of his ears, but he gives her a quick shake of his head.

“No, General Stannard. There is no problem. I would be more than happy to welcome Seeker Pentaghast to my crew,” Deshanna replies and put emphasis on all the right places.

“Splendid,” Stannard says, but it's doubtful anyone believes the sentiment. “I won’t waste any more of your time then and I’m sure my good friend Orsino here has a few words for you as well. Good luck and may the Maker watch over your journey.” 

Deshanna waits until the general is out of range. “Lavellan, why don’t you show our last crew members to the loading dock while I speak to the admiral?”

“Yes, ser. Admiral Orsino.” Lavellan salutes and beckons the humans to follow. 

“Deshanna-”

“Don’t Deshanna me…” she hears her two superior officers’ voices before they are too far out of range for the rest.

“Have either of you been on a Naval vessel before?” she asks.

“Yes, m’am,” Major Hawke answers.

Lavellan grimaces. “Ser will be fine, thank you.”

“Yes, ser.”

“And you, Miss Pentaghast?”

“Cassandra is fine, thank you,” the woman replies and she likes the steel in her voice. It is not what she would expect from some simpering church maid, but then again the strict cut of Pentaghast’s hair and her utilitarian outfit suggest she is no simple cloistered sister. “And no, I have never been part of such a crew, but I did serve in the army for several years.”

“I see. Let me give you the short version then just so we are all on the same page,” Lavellan says as they walk down the ramp and into the loading area. There are several ports around the circular room and she leads them towards the right gates where  _Haven_ is docked. “As First Officer, if there is something you need brought to the Captain’s attention, complaints, suggestions and such, please approach me first. If it’s something to do with your lodging here, the Steward is your best bet first.” 

She turns to them as they reach their destination. “Any questions for me?”

“No, ser,” they reply in unison. 

“Welcome aboard then. Sten will see to your belongings,” she says and points to the looming Qunari by the gate, his eyes burrowing into the datapad in hand as if it will strike him at any moment.

She watches them walk away to join the other non-essential crew milling about the dock waiting for their excursion to begin. The three person film crew huddles over their equipment as a camera sphere flits above their heads to catch what they’re missing. The expedition crew Deshanna hired makes final minute adjustments to their gear while their impressively large leader backs an excavator into  _Haven’s_ cargo hold. Excitement ripples through veins to see it all finally coming together, but it is mixed with a heavy anxiety. She had enough problems before a Templar and a Chantry official walked into her life and if they don’t find what they’re looking for, if they can’t make it in time-

“Commander Lavellan.”

Her thoughts are interrupted as Flight Lieutenant Harel strolls towards her. She wonders what he was before joining the service, for no lifelong soldier walks with such fluid grace like that. She’d almost call his mannerisms noble, if such a thing existed in this world any longer. “Yes?”

“I have ran through all pre-flight diagnostics and procedures.  _Haven_ is ready for departure as soon as the space docks clears us and all crew is accounted for.”

“Thank you, Harel. I will inform the Captain.”

“My eyes may be deceiving me, but I believe I saw a Chantry sister enter the hold.”

“Your eyes are fine, I’m afraid.”

“Interesting.”

“Not exactly the word I would use, but we’re still on duty."

He gives a short huff of laughter. “I am sure the fabled Hero of Andraste will have no difficulty in handling the situation,” he says and when she peers at him through narrowed eyes his expression shifts into something playful. It makes him appear years younger although now she cannot remember his exact age. She’ll have to sneak a peek at his file later and solve a few mysteries about their pilot. 

“Problems with my command, Lieutenant?” 

“Not at all. From what I have read of the battle, your fame was hard won and well deserved. My little time aboard this crew has also afforded me the opportunity to observe your skills as a leader and I find no reason to doubt your abilities as of yet. You seem to handle command with an easy grace I have seen in very few throughout the years.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m graceful?”

“No, I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate, Commander.”

“Are you-” She stops herself from finishing the question, unable to now read the meaning in his blue eyes and unwilling to make a fool of herself. She is only imagining that subtle heat in his eyes for no respectable officer would try for some sort of dalliance with their commanding officer. She will  _definitely_ be taking a closer look at his file tonight.

For now a change of topic seems the safest route. “What do you think of the  _Haven_?” she asks. Harel glances away to look into the expansive cargo hold and she feels herself deflate with relief to be out from under his stare.

“I suppose it will do,” he says, mirroring her words from before, and the idea has her laughing as loud as the captain did.

“Yes, I imagine it will.”

If anything, at least this will be one trip to remember. 


	5. Unknown Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place somewhere in the series, a little bonus scene. Afterinquisition on tumblr asked for a prompt and thus this was born. The prompt was 67%. ;)

_< <<Data Corrupted. Date Unknown. Processing…processing…_

Harel wipes a crumpled shirt across his forehead and tries to shift his legs to alleviate the cramp building in his thigh. The maintenance shafts throughout the ship are tight and now made even more uncomfortable by the heat building with every minute the ship remains dead in the water. 

He pulls the last burnt out coil from its place, pausing to glance at the damage, before replacing it with one that shines. There’s a whirl and a click and he breathes a sigh of relief when the console appears to accept the new offering without fuss. With a few quick button strokes, he initiates a reboot of the navigation system and sits back to await the sequence.

The sooner they can concentrate on continuing their mission, the better. Nothing has been going according to plan. So much of his efforts have already been delayed over countless years. The time for patience is gone and he can ill afford any more time lost.

“Harel? Are you in here?” Lavellan’s voice echoes from above.

“Down here, Captain.”

A shuffle of feet against metal prelude her entrance into the alcove. She hops down and crouches by his side, wavering slightly as she finds an acceptable position. When her eyes focus on him they widen slightly and it takes him a moment to realize why.

He has forgotten that he removed his shirt to combat the heat and humidity and only wears the standard issue tank and trousers. The way her gaze travels across his exposed arms makes him experience a different type of warmth, one that curls inside and spreads deep.

Lavellan clears her throat. “Progress?”

“Communications are still down, but I am in the process of re-establishing full navigation systems.”

“Hm…” She glances down at the Marc around her wrist and scrolls through streams of data he cannot see. “I wonder how much power we can pull from nav to help boost environment systems. Creators know we’re not going to need much of it stuck in this swamp right now. How many coils were damaged?”

“Three.”

“Fenedhis. Let me see one.” He relinquishes one to her clever scrutiny and watches her eyes. They are bright, intelligent, and convey her thoughts with an honesty that always surprises him. _She_  surprises him and it is an alarming development. Another wrench in his designs.

The Captain reaches out to hand him back the part. “If we could-” 

His sweat soaked fingers fumble the coil as she passes it into his embrace. It bounces between them, rolling precariously close to the void between the wall and crawlspace. Lavellan moves to get grab it just as he does and their heads smack into each with a dull crack. 

Without thinking, Harel brings his hand to her forehead where a pink smudge is already forming. “Forgive me, are you…”

The soft feel of her skin slams hard through his heart, the way her gaze strikes against him is like lightning in his veins. And even though now he is completely aware of his actions, he can’t help but let his fingers run down the side of her face, down to hold gently to her chin. Lavellan leans into his touch until he can feel her breath on his lips. 

He wonders if hers feel like the dream he had before waking on the cabin’s floor. Surely it was only a dream and nothing more. But this is clearly reality and what he is about to, what he wants to do, is utter madness. She is his superior officer and already he has behaved inappropriately. Even if this was some fantasy world where they existed as equals, there are more important things than this infatuation. And yet…

The console chirps and the alarms blaring in his mind finally register. “Sixty-seven percent,” he says and pulls away, practically shrinking back into the far wall. He thanks the heat of the corridor for masking what must be a growing blush on his skin.

Lavellan blinks, the haze inside her eyes evaporating away. “Wh-what?”

“You asked about transferring navigation power to environmental. At least sixty-seven percent could be transferred and would leave enough for us to continue scanning the area as needed. Captain.” 

“Oh, right.” She shakes her head. Harel does his best to ignore the flash of disappointment he sees before she glances away. When Lavellan returns her gaze, her eyes are steel. “Do what you can then, Lieutenant. I will see to communications.”

“As you say, Captain.”

Without another word, Lavellan retreats back up into the ship proper to leave him to his duties. Harel does his best to concentrate, but the image of her face, of her lips so close, lingers in his mind. This is a problem he is unsure how to fix. 


	6. Log Entry 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been jumping back and forth through time trying to get my bearings on this story/experimenting. The next couple entries will take place in the past to set up everything better. I’ll make sure I say ‘present day’ or something when we get back to normal.

**< <<<File System Reordered...Conversion Complete...Streaming Next Chronological Entry Now...**

“ _All crew members, report to stations for docking separation. Ten minutes until Flex flight.”_

The engines of  _Haven_  hum to life beneath her as Lavellan steps onto the ship proper. She nods to crew members and stops to check stations on her way to the bridge. There’s an air of excitement buzzing, but it is dampened as the AI repeats its message and sounds even more bored than the first time. It is a marvel of next gen technology far more sophisticated than any she has ever seen, but whatever it has in computing power it seems to lack in social graces.

“Shale.”

“ _Yes, Commander?_ ”

“You could be a little bit more enthusiastic.”

“ _I do not understand how my inflection could influence the passage of time.”_

 _“_ It might make it more bearable. I’m sure you have some data about crews working more efficiently under positive environments. Something like that.”

It is a moment before the computer speaks again. “ _I will look into it, Commander_.” 

“Wonderful.”

“Commander Lavellan!” There’s a flash of red and orange in the corner of her eye and she turns to find the Tactical Officer approaching, heavy feet clanking against the carbonate and metal floors. The look on the woman’s face is as severe as the hard lines of her armor.

“Yes, Vallen?”

“Those ‘professionals’ the captain hired to help excavate? I caught them sneaking two barrels of Dragon’s Fire in with their equipment. They’re going to be trouble, I can promise you that.”

“I have every confidence you will keep them in line.” They turn the corner together and come into the open intersection in the belly of  _Haven_  that connects several areas together. Her gaze is drawn to the latest editions to their crew roster forced upon them by General Stannard. It is not the templar that concerns her the most, but this sister. 

“In the meantime, I would like you to keep a closer eye on those two,” she says and nods towards the Chantry members. Vallen sweeps her attention over the pair without making it obvious and she is once again grateful for the lieutenant's professionalism.

“Anything I should know?”

“No, not yet. It's...there’s something about the woman I can’t quite place.”

“Junior!” A deep voice echoes around them and Carver Hawke jumps, face turning an impossible shade of red as a trio of plaincoats swarms around him. They are no ordinary citizens, however. At the head of the pack is Varric Tethras, famed producer and author, who weaseled his way onto  _Haven_  with that silver tongue.

The dwarf claps his hand around Carver’s armor as the young man buries his face in a palm. “Please don’t make a scene, Varric.”

“I’m just surprised to see you is all! What are you doing here? Hawke didn’t say anything about this.”

“It was a last minute assignment. Besides, she doesn’t know everything about my life.”

“Of course. You did tell her though, right?” 

A pause, and then, "yes.”

Lavellan clears her throat as they finally approach and the assembly straightens at the sight of her. “Everyone getting along?”

“Of course, Commander. Only catching up with an old friend,” Tethras replies. 

“Vallen, I would like you to meet Major Hawke and Sister Pentaghast. Lieutenant Vallen is our Tactical Officer. You three will be working closely with one another throughout the journey and she can show you to your stations. Tethras, I do believe you are with me on the bridge.”

“As you say, Commander.”

“Hawke did you say? You’re Marian Hawke’s brother?” Vallen asks as Lavellan climbs the ramp with her new entourage in tow.

The templar groans. “Maker...”

Lavellan’s quiet laughter is swallowed up by the organized symphony of the command center as she steps inside. Buttons flash and screens sing out beneath skilled fingers. Ferelden’s finest move around each other in a calculated dance to ready the ship to disembark. At the center of it all, Captain Istamaethoriel stands with her hands on her hips and turns with a wide grin. “Commander! Are we all set?”

“Yes, ser. I-”

“ _Three minutes until Flex flight. Everyone has done a commendable job at preparing for it, congratulations!”_

The Captain raises a brow at Shale’s newest proclamation and Lavellan sighs. “I’ll explain later.”

“Right, I look forward to it. Are you ready for this?” 

She lifts her arm, twisting the marc around to watch the lines beneath it pulse in time with her heart. Deshanna follows the motion, the gleam in her eyes shifting quietly to concern. “It’s now or never, hahren.”

“We’ll find the answers, I promise you. Ensign Sulenera, confirm our clearance with the tower.”

“Captain, we have received final clearance and are first in line for departure,” the ensign announces a moment later.

“Excellent. Harel, take us out to the relay nice and easy.” 

“Yes, Captain.” A rumble moves through the ship when it disengages from port and slides away. The starry sky shifts in front of them as they drift into endless space. 

“The  _Haven_ is a marvel by human standards. And here it is, leaving Calenhad Station on its inaugural mission to discover the ancient homeworld of the elves. Captain Istamaethoriel stands proud at the bow, a bold grin on her face, looking out into the inky expanse and-”

“Mister Tethras, please get this thing out of my face.” Deshanna interrupts the producer’s narration as she swats the camera sphere hovering too close.

“Sorry, Captain. Just trying to capture the mood.”

“I suggest using the zoom feature, then.”

Tethras chuckles. “Right.”

As the ship leaves the dock behind a great circular structure nearby comes into view. Amber lights race around the edges to a quick tempo and Lavellan takes a breath at the imposing sight. She has only traveled out of the Thedas system once on a mandatory training session and can still remember the taste of bile on her tongue.

“Transmitting access codes now. Flex Relay access granted. You’re clear, helm,” Sulenera says as the lights turn a slow pulsing green in response. 

“Understood.” 

“This is the Captain. All hands prepare for Flex travel.” 

Those aboard the bridge clip themselves into their seats and Lavellan digs her nails into the padding as Harel maneuvers them into the center of the loop. Slowly, the ship tips to face downward. Even though it cannot be felt, and she knows on a fundamental level that there is no up or down in space, she gives a little groan. Logic doesn’t seem to matter when your stomach is in your throat. The Flex Relay hums to life around them and vibrates energy through the hull. Two great rings disengage from the central mass and begin to rotate opposite of one another around the ship. With each passing second they pick up speed and a green haze rises like fog to fill the space before them. She can feel the anti-matter tickling across her skin.

“The Flex Drive is stable and synced with the relay. Initiating final launch sequence now.”  

“ _Flex travel in ten seconds...”_ Lavellan takes a shaky breath as the device spins and spins, turning so fast it is nothing but a blur.  _“Flex travel in five, four, three, two, one-”_

She slams her eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The universe bursts around her, inside her, stretching and shrinking, tearing her into millions of tiny pieces and throwing her into the vastness without moving an inch. She is everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing. She is sure it’s a wonderful sentiment for those that can tolerate the feeling. After a few seconds that seem to last an eternity, the world returns to normal with a jolt. “ _Flex travel complete.”_

Deshanna leans across her seat. “Are you all right?” 

“Yes,” Lavellan answers a little too quickly and tries to smile to keep her mind off the rolling waves inside.

“A couple seconds and we’re on the other side of the galaxy.” Tethras shakes his head, amused, but looking pale himself. “That’s the ingenuity of dwarves for you. It’s a little less amazing when you realize we just like to dig holes through everything.”

“Amaranthine Station has cleared us for departure, Captain. Awaiting your command,” Harel says.

Deshanna returns to standing, eyes greedy and giddy for what awaits. “Soon we’ll be travelling into space only a few have ever dared to explore. And beyond that, parts of the galaxy that no one has seen for a thousand years when my ancestors first crossed these stars.” She pauses to turn and glance at each member of her crew. Her eyes find her first office last and fill with conviction that can be felt. “Somewhere out there the Elvhen homeworld waits and I’m not stopping until we find it. Harel, input the codes from the Commander marc.”

Lavellan grips her chair again, not out of fear, but excitement. They are one step closer to finding the answer she needs. It is out there circling one of those millions of stars sparkling right in front of them. Now there is nothing stopping them from finding the truth. 

“Coordinates plotted.”

Deshanna smiles and hope begins to fill the cracks inside. “Then let’s not waste any more time then. Set sail, Lieutenant.” 


	7. Log Entry 6

The mess hall sounds like a beehive when Lavellan steps over the threshold. Those off duty recline in front of the holo-screens, huddle around the arcade or sit at the long metal tables. She doesn’t wonder how the room got its name with all the bodies, smells and conversation mingling about. It is an excited mess of humanity and she takes a breath of it all to quell the ache inside. Voices and figures pause to see her walking near so she smiles and nods to ease their worries. It is not exactly normal for the commander or captain to waltz into regular crew areas without a purpose, but she couldn’t spend another minute in her silent quarters with the marc’s song scratching in her mind. Every day they grow nearer to the source of the transmission, it grows stronger.

“What’s on the menu today, Sten?” she asks as she approaches the buffet line and the looming figure behind it. She still isn’t sure about the hornless Qunari even if he does owe Deshanna a blood debt, but at least she has gotten used to his stoic expressions.

Sten turns to her with his Surprised Frown. “Commander, what are you doing here? Are your normal rations not to your satisfaction? If you require more I-”

“No, they’re fine. I just didn’t feel like eating in my quarters today. I will have whatever the crew is having, please.”

He glares at her with the Suspicious Frown for a few seconds before complying. The room has gone back to its normal activity and she takes a moment to glance around for familiar faces. She doesn’t want to eat alone, but she doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable with her station too. Things were so much easier when she was nothing but a grunt, knee deep in sludge and ducking from enemy fire, than standing here in shining boots and badges. 

“What do you think of our Qunari mercenary captain?” she asks as her eyes still scan the room. She finds the Templar and Sister shoved in the back and smirks. They are someone she won’t mind bothering.

“A Tal-Vashoth is Qunari no longer. We have spoken only as needed. I do not waste words with fiends.” 

“Think he’ll be trouble?”

“Only to himself. Here is your food, Commander.” 

She moves to thank him when she notices an orange frosted cookie sitting at the corner. A bite reveals swirls of bright citrus and sugar and she lifts a brow in wonder. “Did you make these? Why are you holding out of me, Sten?”

“You are the Commander. I did not think you required such frilly things.”

“I still have taste buds. This is delicious and you will include something similar in my meals from now on. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander,” he replies with a Pleased Frown rarely seen.

Lavellan gives a smirk of her own before approaching the table with Hawke and Pentaghast. The young templar shoots up from his chair to salute and almost knocks his drink over in the process. The sister is slower, half out of her seat as if she has forgotten protocol, by the time she waves away their attention. “As you were. May I join you?”

“I…of course, Commander!”

“Settled onto the ship well so far?” she asks when they’ve dug back into their plates. 

“Yes, ser,” Hawke answers right away while his companion merely nods.

“Haven’t been in the order long, have you?” Their fortuitous addition thanks to General Stannard has given her little time and information to learn about the two, but she can hear the greenness of him in every answer.

“This is my second year,” Hawke reveals and she can see the truth of it by looking too. There are few worry lines on his face and the way he moves is jumpy and unsure, eager, not at all like the calm and calculated templars she’s met in the past. The lyrium they take makes them stronger, faster, but it makes them harder too.

“And how long have you been a Sister, if I may ask?”

Pentaghast looks at her a moment and it feels like standing for inspection back at the barracks again. “I have been in Chantry service for close to twenty years.”

“A serious commitment. You must be a very dedicated person to remain with something for so long.” The woman’s searching look lingers, but Lavellan is nothing but sincere. Her life would be very different had she chosen to follow the footsteps of her ancestors, to submit herself to a calling she heard differently within her own heart.

“I find nothing more rewarding than serving the Maker’s will,” Pentaghast says when it is clear there is no offense meant. She shifts back in her seat, shoulders relaxing finally. 

“Commander!” Lavellan smiles before she turns to find her favorite science officer barreling towards them. Sabrae’s large eyes are even larger with surprise. “How strange to see you here. Strange in a good way, I mean. I think. May I sit with you?”

“Of course, Sabrae.”

“What a nice change. Usually I sit by myself. Oh dear, I forgot to grab a cookie.”

“This is Merrill Sabrae, the lead science officer,” Lavellan introduces. “Sabrae, this is Carver Hawke and Cassandra Pentaghast, from the Chantry.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you-”

The man growls. “Yes yes, Marian Hawke is my sister.”

“Who?”

He glares at her as if it’s the worst joke he’s ever heard. “Marian Hawke? The actress?”

“I don’t watch many programs, sorry. I was going to ask if you were going to eat that?” Sabrae gestures to the cookie clutched in his hand.

Lavellan hides her amusement behind a cup at the look of wonderment on Carver’s face. “No, here,” he offers.

“Thank you, Serah Hawke.” Sabrae happily nibbles on the cookie, oblivious to the brightened cheeks of the man across from her. 

“Uh, please. Call me Carver. So you’re the…the science officer then? What kind of work do you do?”

The marc bites into Lavellan’s palm and distracts her from the budding conversation. There used to be only one type of sensation but lately the thing practically seems alive with different pulses. She keeps that thought at bay most of the time, but late at night when it is only her and the eerie green glow it’s difficult to forget. The feeling comes again and she closes her fist. It’s not painful this time and feels more like a pet nipping for its owner’s attention.

“Officer Sabrae?” They all look up to find Lieutenant Harel standing at the edge of the table.  

“Y-yes?”

“Captain Istimaethoriel requested that I take a look at the eluvian you salvaged. If you have the time, I would like to do so now.”

Sabrae glances down at her half eaten cookie with a frown. “Well…I-”

“I will show him the eluvian,” Lavellan interrupts and moves to stand. “You stay and eat. Have the rest of my cookie too.”

“Thank you, lethallan! Oh, I mean-Commander, Ser.” 

“You have studied the eluvian?” Harel asks.

“I have. I may not have every answer you are looking for, but in the meantime I can at least show you the device and save your more detailed questions for another time.” When he doesn’t move, she crosses her arms. “Would that be acceptable, Lieutenant?” 

For the second time that day she weathers someone’s scrutinizing gaze and wonders if every first officer has to deal with such things or if she’s just lucky. “Of course. After you, Commander.”

They walk in silence down the bowing corridors to the science wing. In the last few days there has been little time for them to interact outside the bridge, but she still remembers their conversation before leaving port. There is no trace of that playful smirk on his face now. Is it a rare occurrence or does that stiff facade of his crack often? The matter of the marc is something that only time will uncover, so she might as well try another experiment. “So you are a skilled pilot, collector of ancient artifacts and an expert in Elvhen culture. Where do you find the time?”

“It is a matter of careful multitasking.”

“An important trait for any pilot, I imagine.”

“True enough.”

“But you weren’t always in the Navy. Up until twelve years ago, you worked in the Tevinter Cluster as an archaeologist. Why the change of careers?”

“Why do you ask?”

She could tell him it is because it’s her duty as commander to investigate the crew of  _Haven,_ that it will help them work better together, and it would be a convenient excuse. Not even a complete lie, if she wants to be technical, but she doesn’t. “You seem like an interesting person, Harel, and I’d like to know you better.”

It takes a few seconds for the skeptical crease of his mouth to disappear and something like a smile to take its place. “Anthropologist.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I was an anthropologist, not an archaeologist. For what I imagine might be obvious reasons, I endeavored to uncover more of Elvhen customs and cultures that have been lost to current generations. Naturally, I stumbled upon other relics of histories long forgotten in my search.”

“Oh? Like what?”

His expression grows wistful. “I found the ruin of Barindur, a lost Tevinter city buried deep beneath a dead and barren wasteland. Volcanic ash had sealed it tight. In one dark moment, every living creature in the city seared and smothered. They were statues in the ashes, like a mold made to recall the lost.”

Lavellan shakes her head but can’t seem to dislodge the sound of his voice from her ears. Truth be told, she doesn’t want to. It is much different from the clipped and professional manner she is growing used to and she could listen to him speak like this for centuries. It is soothing, beautiful even. “That sounds incredible. You didn’t stay at one university or institution for very long it seems.”

“My theories and interpretations of history were not always so well received among my colleagues. I spent many years completing my own work alone as a result. Without funding it was much more difficult but the amount of freedom was worth the cost.”

“When we have more time, I’d love to hear more about your discoveries,” she says.  _And to hear you talk about them_ , she thinks.

He gives her another look but there is less mistrust in this one. “I…I would be happy to share them.”

“Here we are.” The entrance to the science department whooshes open before them. A few ensigns conduct their own experiments or tend to other duties and pay them little mind as they walk deeper into the room. A few cryo-pods stand sentry around another door at the far end. Once she presses her hand to the scanner and gives them entrance, the lights pop on one by one to reveal another ancient artifact that has consumed her life. To the uneducated eye, it is nothing but a tall, ornate mirror. Twisting columns make up the base and wrap around half the height. Gilded decorations bloom from the top and some type of animal gallops above it all. 

She watches Harel approach it with curiosity and awe. She felt the same once, but now all she feels is fear and unease. It is fascinating and unbelievable, but it also fills her with a heavy dread she cannot seem to shake. He reaches out, pausing a breath, before his fingers trace down the solid glass. “Incredible that it was able to be restored. And you say your marc interacted with it? How?”

“I can show you.” Her palm lifts to the glass. It shifts beneath her, shattering inward towards some point, and she feels her fingers sink just a little like the hard surface has turned to compacted sand. A gentle hum fills the room as the swirling surface glows. 

“Have you attempted to send something through?”

“This is as far as it gives. I’m sure you know that eluvians come in pairs and both must be active if you want to use them. I went through the two in Halamshiral before the war broke out. It was definitely an experience.”

“Am I correct in assuming you believe the coordinates will lead us to this one’s mate?”

“That’s the theory. All the eluvians we have ever found have been on Thedas. Nowhere else. Not Seheron, not Minrathous, not Orzammar. Not the hundreds and hundreds of planets the Dalish have searched over the centuries. No other known one but Thedas. Yet this one gives us a signal to the farthest side of the galaxy. So-”

“You believe it is on Arlathan.”

She nods and pulls away from the eluvian. It shimmers for a few seconds more before turning back into nothing but a mirror and she catches Harel’s gaze. His eyes seem more intense this way, as if he is not afraid to truly look at her, to search her for something. She isn’t sure what it might be he wants and the way her stomach is starting to flip makes her want to fill the sudden, silent space. “We don’t know why a marc would interact with an eluvian. Marcs were created only eighty years ago by humans.”

“So they say.”

“So they say?” She turns to face him. “What are you suggesting?”

“Only what you must be thinking yourself but will not give voice to. That the eluvians and marcs are both Elvhen in origin. The one wrapped around your wrist appears far older than half a century, would you not agree? Perhaps as old as this eluvian. Our people might be responsible for more than given credit and if that part of history could be wrong, many other facts could be as well.” 

“I can see why your colleagues disliked you if your other theories were similar.”

Harel laughs and inclines his head. “Just so.”

“But it’s what Sabrae and the captain believe too.”

“And you?”

She stares at her marc in the eluvian’s reflection. Her marc. For the few years she’s worn it, it’s never truly felt like hers. She watches the strange green lines strike up her arm, hears the distant whispers of voices she can’t recognize, and only knows she wants this thing gone. “I believe we’ll find out tomorrow.”


	8. Log Entry 7

_The ground trembles beneath her feet as she rushes down crumbling hallways. She runs into hard shoulders and pounding limbs as she pushes through the tide of those escaping and searches each of their faces for the one she is most desperate to find. Some yell at her to turn around, that it isn’t safe, she’ll die, but she ignores their cries. She won’t leave without her. She won’t._

_Panic and grief grip her heart with every second that flies by without their reunion. Frustrated tears stream down her face as the crowd thins and there is still no sign of her love. She screams her name into the quiet until her throat feels raw. There is nothing but smoke and ruin, empty corridors filled with fallen rubble. For a moment she stares out a shattered window and watches the sky slipping away as their home slowly sinks to its end. Perhaps her mate already found escape?_

_She readies to sprint away when she hears her name, just a soft whisper but the sound strikes through her. Thoughts of flight leave and she rushes forward towards a shattered pillar to find tattered silk and skin stuck beneath it._

_“No!” she cries out as she tries to push and pull the heavy stone away.  
_

_“It’s no use.”  
_

_“I can do it!”  
_

_“Vhenan, I-” Red splatters against pale lips as a wet cough shakes through a broken body.  
_

_“No, Helaetha! No…” She crashes to her knees and pulls them into her arms. “Gods no. I should’ve been with you. I’m so sorry.”  
_

_“It is not your fault.” A hand drops to the bag by her side with green leaves peeking through the top. “I…wanted to save some. I thought there was time._ _Please vhenan, you have…to go.”_

_“I will not leave without you.”  
_

_“You must. You have to live. For me. Please, do not ask me to watch you die. And…take them. Plant them and I will always be with you.”  
_

_“Helaetha…” She kisses her and tastes copper and salt on her tongue, a sorrow almost as deep as the love beating through her pained heart. She wants to stay here forever, she would, but the embrace ends too soon. “I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”  
_

_“Ar lath ma vhenan. Live.”  
_

_With a cry she tears herself away and grabs the overturned bag full of precious cargo before sprinting back down the hall. She turns around once, unable to bear the thought of leaving them alone still. Her love wears a quiet smile, peaceful, mouth moving in one last farewell. She breathes out her own goodbye, seedlings clutched to her chest and purpose growing inside, and races towards escape. She will live, she will never forget. She will make them pay._

Lavellan wakes with tears staining her cheeks and pillow, a strained whimper breaking through her lips. She sits up and fists the fabric of her shirt above her pounding heart. Panic and pain whirl around inside her love and loss heavy for someone she’s never even known. The dreams have gotten stronger and clearer the longer she’s worn the marc, but they no longer seem like fabrications of her mind. They feel like memories. Her fingers shake as she brings them to cover her face, a trembling sigh slipping between the cracks. She wonders how long she can survive this before she’s ripped apart.

“Senior Officers, please report to main control," The captain says through the ship's speakers. With a shuddering inhale, Lavellan pulls the covers away and slips out of bed, the dream of Helaetha and her lover lingering as she dresses and marches down the hallways to her station. 

Sabrae and Vallen are already there when she steps onto the bridge. The other elf gives her a wide grin as she approaches. “We’ve reached the beacon.”

“Arlathan?” Lavellan asks, excitement bursting inside.

“We’re coming into viewing range now, Commander,” Sulenera announces from the helm a moment before the viewscreen flashes. It is not a bright, brilliant planet that fills it, however. It is a swarm of dull rock and glistening ice tumbling around one another, pieces smaller than dust and larger than  _Haven_ backed by a nebula glistening with purples and blues.

Disappointment and dread sink low in her stomach. “It’s…an asteroid field?”

“It’s an accretion disc surrounding a binary system,” Sabrae informs. “Carbon, silicates, common metals, hydrogen, water. Nothing that-oh, wait! There’s duranium and traces of tri-polymer plasma.”

“Some type of ship?”

“Pieces of one or several, I think. The readings are scattered about.”

“Have we arrived?” Deshanna calls from behind them all as she and Harel finally walk into the command room. Lavellan doesn't turn to see if there is any distress in her captain’s face when Sabrae delivers the news. “Are there any planets?”

“No, it doesn’t look like the binary system was ever stable enough to support them.”

“And the signal?”

“It’s inside the disc. I think I can narrow the location down to few thousand kilometers but we need to get closer. This isn’t good, is it?”

“This ship will not survive an attempt in maneuvering through that field,” Harel says, mentioning what must be on everyone’s mind.

 _Keela, we need you,_ voices whisper in her ear as the marc seems to tighten around her skin. She inhales sharply and clamps a hand over the pulsing lines, not sure what is worse- the disembodied people floating in her head or the sting in her veins. Most everyone is still focused on the viewscreen save for Harel. His calculating gaze jumps from her arm to her eyes and she wonders how much of his attention is born of concern instead of curiosity alone.

“I’m open to any suggestions,” Deshanna says.

Harel keeps locked on her a moment more before turning to the captain. “The skiff would be able to navigate through the territory with more ease.”

“Some of those rocks are travelling hundreds of kilometers per hour. One wrong move and those shields won’t save you,” Vallen mentions. 

“It’s a good thing we have one of the best pilots in Thedas then,” Lavellan speaks up and catches Harel’s attention again.

“Any other suggestions?” Deshanna lets out a sigh when no else speaks up. “I was afraid that might be the case. How long until we’re close enough?”

“Another hour,” Sabrae answers.

“Unless someone comes up with an alternative by then, I agree it’s the best chance we have. Harel, Valen, see to the skiff and do what you can to reinforce its structural integrity. Sabrae I want you here monitoring everything but make sure they take whatever sensors you think are relevant. ” Deshanna turns to Lavellan when the others set off on their tasks. “I’m guessing you’ll want to be going?”

“You know I have to.”

“And I don’t have to like it. Take Ensign Sulenera with you and no unnecessary risks, understand?”

“Yes, Captain,” she answers, even though they both know she’ll do whatever it takes to reach this end.

 _“You are cleared to disengage,”_  Shale announces an hour later through speakers of the smaller vessel attached to  _Haven’s_  bulk. 

“Disengaging now,” is Harel’s reply. Lavellan watches the clamps holding the small ship down lift and there is a jolt as thrusters push them away and into empty space. It doesn’t seem so empty, however, as they spin around and face the extensive asteroid field ahead and the nebula beyond. 

Her eyes stay on the mammoth pillars of glowing gas and dust, the dense dark places where newborn stars are cradled. She knows all about a nebula’s creation, the science and math involved, has seen hundreds of their kind and still there is a warmth of wonder that spreads through her at the sight each time. 

“Pretty view, eh Commander?” Varric asks from the furthest seat in the back. She sighs as his camera drone draws near to take images of her reaction. 

“I am surprised the captain allowed you to join us, Master Tethras,” Harel says, eyes still locked on his path. 

“It took some persuasion but there’s no way I could miss something like this.”

Lavellan turns in her chair to face him. “Just don’t-”

“Yes I know, don’t get in the way. I don’t plan on doing anything stupid. Getting stuck in there is the last thing I want too.”

“We’re approaching the perimeter,” Sulenera announces. “Our computer can’t create a complete course through all the interference. There are too many variables. That’s the best I can give you, Lieutenant.” Flight patterns appear on Harel’s console like a length of long string twisting and curling towards the spool. 

“ _I will do my best to assist with my superior computing power.”_

“I am relieved,” Harel says with a shake of his head.

“ _My social speech parameters suggest that was said in sarcasm. I do not understand the-”_

“A lesson for another time, Shale.”Lavellan interrupts _._ _“_ Deflector and shields are at full strength. Captain, we’re ready to begin on your orders.”

“Proceed and good luck.”

She takes a deep breath as the ship inches closer. “I hope she was right about you.”

“I hope so as well,” Harel responds and guides them in.

There is nothing to be done about the smaller debris but most of it moves out of the way without a fuss, Larger objects sink dangerously close to the hull before the deflector and shields together push back and pop them away. Harel follows the pulsing red line on his monitor as best he can, dipping them beneath and around pocketed asteroids and larger rocks that the small vessel would never withstand. He curves sharply to the right and Lavellan almost complains until she sees a blur brush by them bigger than a hovercraft. 

“Lieutenant, there’s-”

“I see it!”

From there, things become interesting. Direction is meaningless as Harel turns every which way to avoid a minefield of crushing asteroids while she tries to keep her eyes on the controls in front of her. The ship jumps and rumbles a second before alarms blare in her ears. There is another hit that sends them sideways and she barely hears Harel’s curse over the painful groan of metal.

“A few more like that and we’ll be done. Do we need to abort-”

“No!” She looks over to see the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his eyes seem to move impossibly fast between his screen and the chaos around them. The marc hums a reminder around her wrist.

“I’m diverting all available power to the deflector. Sulenera, give me whatever you can.” 

“We’re almost to the beacon,” the ensign says a few eternities later. “It’s just-”

Two massive slabs roll before them, the safe path between growing narrower, but their pilot doesn’t waver in his course. 

“Are we going to make that?” Varric finally speaks up from the back. 

The engines pulsing beneath them to give an extra burst of speed is the only response from Harel. Lavellan glances over at him to see the same determined expression on his face. There are only seconds to make the decision and she feels each with every hard beat of her heart. In the end she turns back towards their fate, takes another deep breath, and hopes it’s not her last. Harel jerks the ship upwards and her stomach drops to her feet as the windows grow dark with looming rock and ice. Somewhere red lights flash and another alarm sounds and there’s someone screaming behind her, but she can only concentrate on the tiny sliver of nebula visible ahead. It becomes smaller and smaller and she knows they won’t make it-

And then the ship dives and turns, finding a hole of safety still left, and with another burst of speed they are back into more open space. A collected sigh rolls through the cabin, perhaps the strongest one from the smallest of them.

“Next time I say I want to film a field trip, tie me to a bulkhead.” Varric’s face is white and there are sure to be permanent divots in his armrests, but all of them are somehow alive and still breathing air.

“I’m glad she was right,” Lavellan says as Harel unlatches his fingers from around the controls. 

He gives her a quick grin. “I am glad as well.”

Deshanna’s voice comes over the speakers. “Lavellan, report.”

With shaking hands she checks the damage done to the ship. “Hull integrity is within seventy percent, deflector is still operational. We’re not going to be able to take too many hits on the way out, but we made it.”

“Let’s see what it is then.”

“Patching our feed to you now, Captain,” Sulenera says and they all gaze at where the beacon has brought them. 

It is an asteroid bigger than all the rest, marred by many craters but almost a perfect sphere made from its own tremendous gravity, and shining white and grey by the light of the far away stars. 

“It’s approximately nine hundred and fifty kilometers in diameter. The signal is coming from somewhere below the surface about one hundred meters down. Readings indicate a concentrated mass of duranium. I think it might be a ship, but I can’t get anything accurate through the rocks.”

“So what you are telling me is we must land?” 

“I think so, Commander. There is a volcanic plain nearby that should be stable enough to support the ship. I’ve sent the coordinates to helm.”

“Take us down then, Harel. Nice and easy this time, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The minor planetoid is a simpler challenge than navigating through the field and the Lieutenant effortlessly brings the small craft floating down to the surface. Lavellan jumps up from her seat before they’ve properly landed eager to be away and discover the source of the marc’s strange connection.

“We should-oh!” The ship shifts beneath her feet and throws her right across Harel’s lap. Arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling further but it’s the clarity of his eyes that hold her still. She’s never noticed the petals of silver and violet seeping into the blue before, but then again she’s never been so close that their noses almost touch. It’s like pieces of the nebula have fallen into their depths. The grossly romantic notion finally snaps her out of this stupor. “I…I’m sorry,” she mutters as she all but vaults out of his embrace. 

“No harm done, Commander.” If she notes a little breathless quality to his voice, she tells herself it’s only imagined. 

“Right. Harel and I will take the runner to find the source. Sulenera, see if you can find a better route out of this place than the way we came. I’d rather not do that again.” Lavellan doesn’t like the smirk on Varric’s face when she focuses on him and chooses to ignore it. “And you are definitely not coming.”

“You’ll get no argument from me. I’ve had my fill of dangerous space exploration for awhile. You will take my camera with you though, won’t you? Whatever you find in there has to be big.”

“Fine. Let’s get suited up and ready.”

It takes a few minutes to inform Deshanna of her plan and a couple more to slip out of her outer clothing and into one of the zero g suits they will need to survive outside the ship. Thankfully they’re not as bulky as the armored suits she used in the military, but she still feels a flutter of nerves when the helmet slips over her head and seals in place. There’s a startling hiss as oxygen flows inside and she takes a few quick breaths to try and calm herself. Will her heart ever settle today?

“Good luck,” offers the dwarf when she’s finished her final checks.

“Mythal enaste, Commander,” says the other Dalish elf and Lavellan lets out a little laugh that loosens some of the tension inside. 

“The home ships are a little too far away to help, if they ever could.”

Sulenera shrugs. “I’ve never been much of a believer myself, but in this case…couldn’t hurt?” 

“I suppose so. We’ll keep an open comm.”

It seems a long walk to the other end of the ship. She’s waited so long for this moment and it seems impossible that in perhaps less than an hour she will find the answers. Tethras is right - whatever awaits beneath all that rock and ice is something important, but she finds she cares less about any historical ramifications if it means there’s a chance her life might be hers again. 

“The runner is powered and prepared to depart. Are you ready, Commander?” Harel asks as she meets him at the stern and she’s happy she can’t quite see the distracting flecks of his eyes now. 

She nods and all but punches the controls to depressurize the room. “You have no idea.”


	9. Log Entry 8

The runner rumbles over the asteroid’s surface and Lavellan’s heart begins to beat in time with the beeps growing closer together as they near the signal. She can see the jagged shapes of hills ahead where something lays beneath awaiting for them to find, but it is still too far out of reach for her liking. Fingers tap against her thigh barely felt through the thick fabric as time seems to drag, made even longer by the fact that everything appears the same on this desolate rock.

“You will be out of visual range in two minutes,” Sulenera informs them. 

“May I ask a personal question, Commander?” Harel says beside her.

“Go ahead,” she replies, not minding the thought of having something to distract her. Besides, it is only fair considering their conversation yesterday.

“There are a surprising number of Dalish aboard  _Haven_. I have been led to believe it is something of a rarity for clan members to leave the aravels.”

“I have yet to hear a question, Lieutenant.” She can’t see his whole face through the helmet, but there’s an edge of a smile visible. 

“I am curious to know why you are not among the clans any longer. I must admit, you and the others are not what I have come to expect from the Dalish.”

“And what is that?”

“In my experience, it is a closed society unwilling to accept change and the council of outsiders. If one does not conform to their ideals they are unwelcome.”

“Turned you away, did they?”

“I approached several clans. I am not without a certain amount of expertise and thought our combined efforts would produce results. Their singular purpose is to locate the homeworld, yet they resist all attempts for help in doing so. They are-”

“Antiquated? Misguided? Foolish? There is nothing you could say that I haven’t heard already. There are more open and radical clans out there, if you had searched a little longer. The Captain’s for instance, and Sulenera is here because of an exchange program. Our ways have been...a cause for debate between myself and many elders. Most of the Dalish live their whole lives on ships traveling across the galaxy, alone, apart from anyone else. It feels like going nowhere."

"I sense a contradiction is forthcoming."

"Can you blame the Dalish? Any attempts at sharing our culture is either assimilated or seen as an act of aggression. We are not welcomed as we are in this galaxy. Our options are to submit or endure."

"And you have chosen...?"

"Neither. I left my clan because I wanted to feel grass beneath my feet instead of metal. I want a home. I want our people to belong somewhere and I will find it.” 

She hears gentle amusement in Harel’s reply. “And here you are, a commander aboard a shemlen ship searching for just that. I believe you are on your way towards that and much more."

Sulenera’s voice cuts into their conversation. “Thirty seconds until you are out of visual range, Commander. I will continue to monitor you with bio-readings and infrared, but there may be interference if you go beneath the surface.”

‘Understood.”

Fifteen minutes later they reach their destination. What once may have been a large opening sloping into the ground is now mostly blocked by rubble and cave ins. Only a space of a few meters wide is clear enough for them to slip through. Lavellan reaches down to roll one of their sensors into the inky blackness beyond.

“It looks like the blockade extends about ten meters until the cavern opens.”  She returns to Harel’s side and watches his marc as the probe sends them back information. It is a few more minutes before something else lights up the screen, all unnatural curves and straight lines.

“There is a ship down there,” she says. “Duranium, traces of tri-polymer residue. Looks like there’s hull damage but it appears to be in more or less one piece. We have to go in there.”

“I would be remiss in my duties if I did not mention that, if this is indeed a relic of Arlathan, then this cavern is thousands of years old and no doubt incredibly dangerous,” Harel remarks.

“Noted.” She punches a button on her marc and informs Deshanna of what they have discovered. 

“Use your best judgement. At the first sign of trouble pull out of there. Sulenera, keep constant watch on their readings.”

“Yes, Captain. I-” There’s a muffled voice in the background. “Mister Tethras wants to remind you of his camera, Commander.”

“Right.” Lavellan pulls the small device from a pocket and throws it into the air. It stops mid descent with a hum, lights flashing as it wakes up, and settles close to her shoulder. “Well then, ladies first.”

She shakes out her nervous limbs before easing face first through the hole in front of them. She forgets to exhale, heart beating wildly, as the space narrows until she can hear rocks scraping against her helmet. For one panicked moment her foot catches on something and then there is empty space before her where she can stretch herself more freely again. The climb down takes some calculated effort but in no time they both stand in a darkened tunnel with a treasure gleaming in the distance. Their gravity boots make impressions where no one has been for thousands of years next to tracks cut deep into the rock. There are little pieces of metal, scorched ground around them, and each step reveals larger sections separated from the whole.

“It looks like the vessel may have crashed,” Harel remarks.

“Or at least made a difficult landing. Do you think…” Lavellan trails off as their lights finally land on the ship nestled at the end. 

It is about the size of their skiff but sleek like a hawk tucking its wings in to dive, the exterior a solid gold color that shines even after all this time. Parts are torn away like a beast bit into the sides and one of the wings seems broken for good, but it is in remarkable shape even half buried by debris as it is. 

“Commander, what have you found?” Deshanna’s voice is distorted by the distance and layers of rock above their heads. 

It has been a long time since she spoke of her heritage with such wonder. “It is an Elvhen ship. We have few records to compare it to left. The design is different from that of the Evanuris ships and not like any I have seen before. It's...beautiful."

“Can you get inside?”

“I think so, Captain. Standby.” There is a force pulling her heart and her feet towards it, as if it is a beacon of warm light in a snowstorm. She knows without a doubt it belongs to her people and there is something for her awaiting inside. 

At least Harel continues to be her voice of reason. “We should tread carefully. Scans of the area suggest it is unstable.”

“Of course.”

She veers to the left and begins to climb rocks adjacent to the nearest opening in the hull, crouching low and holding on as some of them wobble beneath her feet. The clank of metal meeting metal vibrates through her suit as she finally reaches the ship itself. There is little to hold onto as she steps further onto the wing so she scoots across slowly, using the grip of her gloves and gravity boots to see her across. Tethras’ camera whizzes by her head and enters the ship. Its bright lights shine through the cracks and holes, but she is still too far away to catch any details. Suddenly the whole thing shakes, like a kite faltering in absent wind, and almost sees her tumbling to the ground below. “Shit!”

When the rocking stops, she glances back to find Harel scrambling back to the rocks. “One at a time appears to be the wisest course of action,” he says, voice colored with embarrassment.

She rolls her eyes. “So it appears.”

By the time she can’t feel each stressed beat of her heart anymore, she’s reached the first open tear big enough to fit through. “Okay, I’m going in.” She takes a breath before grasping the edges and pulling herself inside history. Her feet hit floor, and she sees an impression of dust and ruin, before the marc bites into her arm and everything goes green. The universe pitches beneath her. She thinks she might cry out but it sounds strange, twisted. 

Eyes open, although she cannot remember closing them, and instead of desolation, the ship appears to be brand new again. The floor is a sturdy, hard rubber beneath her fingers and she feels the impact of it in her knees from falling forward. The walls are solid instead of shattered, although there are some burnt marks and smoking panels. The smell of melting wires tickles her nose.

And there are elves running through the halls.

Someone grabs hold of her from behind and lifts her up on her feet. “Are you well, Valifen?”

That is not her name. “I am uninjured,” she replies in a voice not her own. She looks down at her hands and finds them paler than normal, large and etched with lines unknown. “What is happening?”

“The shemlen have found us. Come, we are needed at our stations.”

She’s rushed forward through sparse crowds until they come into a room with chaos that she knows well. The command center is lit up like fireworks, a flurry of movement as the crew combats with the force following it. In the center of the room a holo projection shows an orb of the cosmos with their small ship at the center and another one, a mass of sharp metal and dangerous teeth drawing near.  he takes her station and scans the area and the pursuing ship and catches a glimpse of herself in the console’s reflection - short black hair, brown eyes, a wide jaw. A man’s face she does not recognize, but it is  _her_. 

“It is gaining on us, Captain. We will not be able to outrun it.”

“How did they sense our presence? We should have been protected from their grasping fingers.”

“I do not know.”

The ship shakes as another hit digs into their shields. “Suggestions?”

Her eyes sweep over the information in front of her, fingers flicking through space for a solution. A familiar binary system catches her attention. “There is a debris field three paces away. They would never be able to follow us inside.”

“With good reason. Our chances of survival are just as slim,” another voice says, but she turns to her captain and keeps his gaze. It would be better that they didn’t. The shems can never find what they carry or else there will be nothing left. They’re taking something important somewhere. To hide it, she thinks. She can’t grasp hold of the thought as the ship rattles again.

“The eluvian?”

“The power has been damaged. There is perhaps enough energy for one crossing before it will go silent. It could be repaired if enough time could be provided-”

“Valifen, take the foci and travel back to the homeworld.” 

She shakes her head. “Captain-”

“I have no intentions of dying this day. We will evade them in the field and land upon a large asteroid to make repairs so we may follow.” The Captain reaches into his chair and holds out a box for her to take. “Go, as you are ordered.”

Lavellan, Valifen, glances around the room before grabbing hold of the offering. And then she is running, alone, through empty halls and tears at the corner of her vision and through this blind rage that’s filling her heart. The shemlen have all but taken her home and now they would rip her only family left away. She turns a corner and the eluvian is there glowing, not brightly, but enough. Her eyes look down at the box in hand. They will try to take everything, but she will not let them have this. She jumps through the eluvian and to safety, hoping that they will soon follow. The world shatters around her, pieces of infinite glass stretching and spiraling.

With another burst of green, she finds herself trapped inside something too small. She gasps, but there isn’t enough air in the helmet. She’s suffocating. “I have to get out!” Why is she wearing it at all? There is air beyond right in this room.

Finger claws at the clasps around her head, but then there are someone else’s hands that move to stop her. “Come back to yourself, Commander.” 

“Let me go!”

“ _Keela_! _”_ She stills at the name. Her name, and finally recognizes blue eyes in front of her. 

“Harel?”

“Yes, good. Now take deep breaths. In and out. You have all the air you need and more.”

Her lungs fill with sweet oxygen as she takes a breath and follows his words. Slowly, the fear and adrenaline leave her veins, calming her nerves but making her feel so tired. Harel does not protest as she leans further into his support and she wishes she could actually feel his hands through the fabric of their suits. Her body feels afloat, untethered, begging for an anchoring touch.

“What happened?” she asks as her mind falls back into place again.

“You collapsed upon entering the vessel in a semi lucid state. You were…you were not yourself. I could not get through to you.” The worry in his voice pulls her farther away from the madness.

“For how long?”

“A few minutes. I-”

Deshanna blares through their helmets. “Harel, status?” 

“Commander Lavellan has regained consciousness.”

“I’m okay, Captain. It was,” she pauses, glancing up at her companion, “it was another episode.”

“While you were awake?”

“Yes.”

There is another moment before Deshanna replies. “Can you continue?”

“Yes.” Even if she couldn’t, she would never admit it. She’s surprised Deshanna even asked. “And I think I know where we need to go. Harel, help me up.”

The hallways have decayed, bright white corridors now grey and broken apart, but it is all clear in her mind. They come across their first corpse before they reach their destination. It is well preserved in the vacuum of space, but the husk is unrecognizable for anything but a humanoid shape after all this time. The door to the command center is sealed and it takes some effort to pry it open again. The bodies inside are much the same and she pauses to look at the one sitting in the middle of the shrouded room. The camera sphere illuminates his white and green uniform and the golden badges at his collar, the faded, sunken skin of a captain that went down with his ship.

She remembers what he looked like with these memories not her own. “His name was Denyriel. He…had cigars in his quarters that he never smoked. He just liked the smell of the leaves.”

“How do you know this?” Harel asks and it is strange to hear more alarm than curiosity in his voice. She ignores him and moves to her station- no, Valifen’s station behind the captain’s chair.

“This was navigation.” She grabs a mobile power unit from her belt and attaches it to the console in front of her. For a moment she worries that the technology might not be capable enough, but the panel flickers a few times before bursting to life once more. The holo sphere pops back into existence although there are no ships battling through space this time, only an image of the accumulation disk they are now inside.

All the buttons below should be foreign symbols and phrases, the language of the Elvhen lost to her ancestor’s folly, but she can understand them. Through Valifen she understands it all although the knowledge is becoming hazy. Before it disappears entirely, she reaches down and begins typing away.

“What are you doing? How are you doing this?”

There isn’t enough time to explain, or maybe even enough words in any language to understand it. “They were on a mission trying to find a place to hide something. Far away. I can’t…a foci? I should be able to find their charts. A flight plan. Something.”

Much of the data is degraded and fragmented or locked behind doors she doesn’t have the keys to open. Valifen may have known, but the harder she tries to concentrate on the man now, the more he starts to slip through her fingers. With a final sequence and the last of her vision’s influence fading, the holo image in front of them changes. It zooms out and out, star systems becoming tiny smudges and galaxies appearing in the distance.

A blue sphere circles one tiny dot amongst it all. She cannot read the language anymore, but her heart no longer needs the translation. She found it. “Arlathan.”

“Quickly, download the data to your marc,” Harel suggests.

Their joy is short lived as navigation begins to flash erratically and the holo goes out of focus. Red warnings clamor on the power unit. “It is overloading the system,” Harel says and pushes her to the side. He tries to disengage it, but it is too late. There is no oxygen for fire and sparks. The console simply goes black and the room grows dark. All their hopes going up in metaphorical smoke.

He turns to her and there is a desperation across his normally calm face that catches her off guard. It is almost more surreal than her recent trip through someone else’s head. “Do you have it?”

They both glance down at her marc. A planet sits at the center of the screen, dark browns and greens and a thick atmosphere full of dangerous clouds, but more beautiful than anything she’s seen in a while. She looks back up at him with a bright smile. “We have it.”


	10. Flights of Fancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little side chapter featuring Sulenera, the ensign navigator, and Solas. Sulenera is littleblue_eyedbird's OC and you can find her fics [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblue_eyedbird/pseuds/littleblue_eyedbird)

The command center of _Haven_ is quiet with only a few crew members standing duty so late at night. It is much different than the usually organized chaos during the day and yet Sulenera still finds herself a little on edge. Their mission to find the Elvhen homeworld is not only a monumental task, but it is also her first mission for the Ferelden government. Her first real adventure.

And here she is, piloting a Tier 4 vessel all on her own.

One might argue it’s not exactly rocket science. She is, after all, driving in a straight line at the moment, but the idea seems impossible considering her heritage. Elves, Dalish ones especially, do not find themselves in such positions often. She won’t waste the opportunity.

Something chirps on her console followed by a blinking red light. “What is it, helm?” Lieutenant Vallen asks.

“Scans have picked up a meteor field ahead, ser,” Sulenera responds.

“Alter course.”

She almost asks by how much before biting her tongue. She can do this. The controls are cool and smooth as she presses the pads of her fingers down. Forty percent power to the port thrusters for twelve seconds should do it and then…just a little starboard…

It’s impossible to tell the ship is moving save for her sensors and the view screen ahead. _Haven_ could go through an ion storm and barely wobble with its advanced dampeners. Sulenera lets out a breath when she’s finished. “Course corrected, Lieutenant.”

“Well done.” It is not Vallen’s voice that replies and she almost jumps out of her skin to hear it so close. Lieutenant Harel stands at her side, arms clasped behind his back and staring at her console.

“Thank you, ser.”

“It is deceptively easy, would you not agree? Yet such a ship requires more finesse than most assume. Too little and we do not move, too much would send us spiraling out of control with little hope of recovery.”

“One of my academy instructors said it’s like driving an apartment complex.”

Harel laughs quietly. “An apt comparison. Have you enjoyed your time aboard?”

“The  _Haven_  is amazing and I’m incredibly honored to be here. It’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever flown, although it’s been interesting trying to adjust. I’m used to smaller things like a _C-98_. You can feel every turn and the rumble of the engine with them. You’re a part of the ship instead of just flying it.”

“I understand. I believe you would find a _Highever_  class fighter an even greater experience.”

Sulenera turns in her seat to face him. ‘Did you fight in the war?”

“I did not. Until this mission I have been out of active service for some time, but I flew them once.”

She would think assigning someone who has been gone from the field so long would be ridiculous if she didn’t remember the way he navigated their skiff through the asteroid field. Her heart was pounding with equal parts fear and excitement as the ship tumbled, dove and twisted. 

“I’ve heard a few things about the _Highevers,_ how they were a bit of a nightmare to control before they adapted the twin tail design. If you ask me, the Orlesian _Eperviers_ are the better class fighter. With the lift fan system they-”

He glances at her a little more closely and she snaps her mouth shut, realizing how much she’s begun to ramble in front of a senior officer about Orlesians of all things. It’s not like her to be so open with strangers, especially ones with _rank_ , but if there’s anyone on this ship who might share her curiosity about flight it would be the main pilot aboard. 

“I’m sorry, ser. I was-”

“There is no need to apologize, Ensign.” He gives her a friendly smile to punctuate his words and she lets herself relax.

“Captain on the bridge!” Lieutenant Vallen announces. Sulenera stands and gives Istimaethorial a quick salute as the captain strides across the deck and into her chair.

“Didn’t run into any problems?”

“Nothing of note, Captain,” Vallen answers. More crewmen and officers begin to pour into command as the shift changes. 

“Excuse me, Lieutenant.” Sulenera steps out of the way so Harel can take the helm and his gentle voice stops her before she gets too far.

“Ensign Sulenera. If you ever wish to continue this discussion, please do not hesitate to seek me out. It has been quite some time since I’ve met someone with such obvious enthusiasm about aeronautics to rival my own.”

“Only if you promise to share some of your piloting secrets,” she replies before adding a hasty ser at the end. If Harel minds her slip up in protocol, which if she’s honest has been the whole conversation, he doesn’t show it. He only nods and offers another smile, and she feels relieved and hopeful at the same time.

“Agreed.”


	11. Log Entry 9

Her helmet is the first thing to go when they return to the skiff. She knows it is more or less the same air, but somehow the open space makes it taste much sweeter. The journey out of the asteroid field is less of an ordeal although it’s possible Keela simply doesn’t notice much of it as she relinquishes her station to Sulenera and all but collapses in the back. They return to  _Haven_ with a few trinkets in tow, least of all the matching eluvian. Against all likely odds they find the ancient device utterly drained of power but without a scratch on it. When Deshanna and Merrill meet them, Keela watches the science officer nearly come out of her skin with excitement. She can’t feel the same exuberance. Living can be exhausting - living as two people in one day is even worse.

“You should go to medical,” Deshanna says.

“No, I-”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion, Commander Lavellan.” Deshanna places a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve never had one awake. Something has changed. Go. Sabrae and I will debrief the others and then we’ll talk after you’ve had time to recuperate.”

Keela is too tired to argue further. She gives a nod before trudging off in the direction of the medical bay. It appears deserted when she walks inside with its empty clean beds and walls colored a soothing blue that look as if they are still drying. “Anders?”

A noise rattles from the office. “Just a second!”

There are a few more sounds, a muffled curse or two, before he emerges into the room proper sweeping blonde hair into a quick bun. As he stretches, she catches the grey lines branching up from his wrists not so dissimilar to her own green veins. He is in the early stages of the disease that plagues some biotics and she wonders if the shadows under his eyes are from his illness or the late nights spent trying to find a cure.

“I’m glad to see you. I was hoping she’d make you show up.”

“What makes you think I didn’t come on my own?”

Anders gives her a scowl as he walks towards a console against the wall. “Because I’ve known you for more than three seconds? Come here, I have something to show you.”

She follows him over and glances at a screen full of staggered lines and rotating scans of two brains. “After today I think we can definitely rule out Grey’s Disease. Whatever is happening with your biotics is nothing similar to my condition now.”

“What is it then?”

“Still not sure yet, but the awards I’m going to win when I write my paper on it-” She hits him lightly on the shoulder. “Right. These are the scans from your mission. Here’s right before you entered the ship and then the next three minutes after.”

A lone blue line pulses above the one scan while the other shows two lines, one blue and another green, starting out on opposite sides of the chart and then meeting in the middle. The blue disappears shortly after.

“This blue line is your cortical activity,” Anders explains. “This green one is someone else’s. I’ve reviewed your scan from before when you were sleeping and the dreams occurred. Your neurological signal was always there, but for those three minutes today something, someone, overtook your brain completely. You were just gone.”

“So what does this mean?”

“Nothing good? Two people living in one brain isn’t healthy-”

“It’s not the same person-”

“Even worse! There is damage each time it occurs and this latest one was worse than all the rest combined. The good news is I think I can repair most of it.” He sighs and she steels herself against his pity and concern. “The bad news is that it’s possible that after one of these new episodes that your consciousness…that you won’t come back at all.”  

“I see. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Cut your arm off.” She is the one to give him a look this time. “I’m serious. That thing is the source of all this trouble. It’s going to either turn you into a vegetable or kill you.”

“The Ferelden doctors tried to disengage the marc already. Many times. My heart stopped beating. I don’t think cutting my arm off would end another way.”

“Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?” Anders holds up a small device. “Then I suggest you wear this cortical inhibitor. I’ve programmed it to try and block the unconscious neurotransmitter signals from your marc. If nothing else, it will give me more detailed information the next time this happens.”

“Do you have any theories as to why the ‘visions’ have changed?”

“My best guesses would be the longer you stay connected to the marc the greater its influence will be or that our proximity to Arlathan, or wherever this thing is from, is responsible. Or it’s a mix of both.”

Keela winces as he places the small sphere behind her ears and it seals against her skin. He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder when it’s done. “What a pair we make, both slowly being killed by biotics. Are you sure I can’t interest you in running away to spend the rest of our days on a lovely beach somewhere?” 

“Ask me tomorrow,” she says with a laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more, but I promise you I won’t stop searching for an answer.” 

“I know. Thank you, Anders.”

“My pleasure. Now, climb up on this table and lay back so I can work my magic.”

A half an hour later he releases her to return to her quarters, but she takes the lift to the debriefing room instead. She doubts the others have finished their report yet. Sleeping is the first thing she needs and also the last thing she wants. The threat of losing herself, of drifting off and drifting apart as someone else takes over her mind, is not a thrilling prospect.

“…and what do you think-” Deshanna’s question halts as Keela steps into the room, her curious expression turning down into annoyance but very little surprise. “Did you at least go to medical like I asked?”

“Yes.”

Keela glances at the others in the room- her mission crew, Sabrae, Vallen and the two Chantry representatives. Their presence gives her pause. How smart is it to admit her biotic condition in front of a templar, of all people?

Captain Istimaethoriel stands and moves to her side. “You all have been briefed on my first officer’s marc. What was left out of your reports is that we believe it is Elvhen in original. The fact that it interacted with our eluvian, with this new one, and with the tech on the Elvhen ship seems to support it.”

“There may be another answer for it, but I will not dismiss your theory at this time,” Pentaghast says. “It seems to have a…unwelcome effect on Commander Lavellan.”

“The tech is hundreds of years old so it’s hardly shocking there are some complications. It causes discomfort and vertigo, but one side effect that has brought us here is that the Commander sees what appear to be memories of the Elvhen before the invasion.”

“Is it dangerous?” 

“Not dangerous, only difficult,” Keela answers. “Our medic has given me a cortical inhibitor to try and stop any further damage.”

“We’ll make sure to keep a closer eye on it from now onward,” Deshanna says as she takes her seat again. “Now, Commander, please tell us your side of the mission and don’t leave anything out.”

She has known Deshanna long enough to know that means leave the dangerous things out. Keela tells them of her experience aboard the ancient ship, some of the things she saw and heard in the memory, and makes sure not to mention just how vivid all the details were, or the fact that someone took over her mind. 

“What are our plans going forward, Captain?” Vallen asks when Keela is finished.

“I will send our information back to base and see how they wish us to proceed. For now,” Deshanna glances at her, “let’s continue in the direction of the next signal all the same. Low impulse. We’ll reconvene when I hear from command. Dismissed.”

Keela remains behind as the others file out of the room. “What did Anders have to say?” Istimaethoriel asks once they are alone.

“That another one of these episodes and I could be lost forever. The things I’m seeing...they do not line up with what we’ve been told. The Elvhen nearly destroyed everything, but in these memories I, they, feared the shemlen. They were angry and bitter about something.”

Deshanna glances out of the window to the nebula still shining bright at their side until the silence becomes worse than the voices in her head. “You know what they say, only the victorious live to tell the tales.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Only that some of that history may be wrong. We know the basic facts. We left our broken home to conquer Thedas and take what wasn’t ours, and everyone suffered from the greed of the savage, selfish Elvhen. But maybe the humans weren’t completely the noble and innocent victims they have made themselves out to be. I suppose I would write my own atrocities out of the story if I could, as well. All this speculation, however, is-”

“Above your pay grade, I know. Do you think they won’t grant our request?”

“The government was more charitable than I ever imagined giving us  _Haven_  and all these resources. The new coordinates will take us far beyond communication range, at least two months of cryo travel. They may not approve of the risk or commitment when we could be led on a goose chase across the quadrant.”

“I know it’s there.”

“I believe you, but the only way to get them to believe it too is to tell the whole truth and that will surely see both of us court marshaled and institutionalized.” Deshanna sighs. “Let’s just pray they agree.”

Keela leaves the conference room frowning. She’s not sure who to pray to. There are no Elvhen gods. The eight Evanuris ships used to bring their people across the stars hundreds of years ago are the closest they have to mythology. If there ever were divine beings they have been long forgotten. She makes it to her quarters without further incident and immediately climbs into the shower, turning the water as high and as hot as it will go. The pressure does wonders for the knots tied tight beneath her skin, but her weariness is a harder thing to scrub away. Her heart keeps catching on the feelings of Valifen, the image of Helaetha trapped, the desperate memories of the other Elvhen she has dreamed about. She wants them gone, but more than that she is compelled to help them. How does one help people that have been dead for centuries?

When her ration of water is filled, she sighs and slips into a standard tank and shorts, steeling herself for the task of sleeping. There is no doubt Anders is a skilled medic and she has every confidence in him yet her dreams, this reality, seem an inevitability now no matter what. Deep inside, she knows the only way she’ll be saved is if they reach Arlathan. As a hand reaches out to pull back the covers the door chimes bright and cheerful and she glares it, the idea of sending a biotic fireball its way flashing through her mind. “Open,” she all but growls.

Lieutenant Harel waits on the other side and most of her annoyance evaporates. She watches him take in her state of undress with a bit of alarm and something else, something that colors cheeks. He shifts on his feet, retreating without moving far just yet. “Forgive me, I have disturbed you-”

“No, it’s fine. To what do I owe this visit, Lieutenant?”

“After the events of today, I wanted, I thought-” He shakes his head with a quick smirk and the usual calm returns to his features. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been dragged through a Quillback pit.” She moves and gestures him inside. “Would you like to come in?”

That same flash of nervousness rockets across his eyes but he agrees and steps into her rooms. He takes in the sparse belongings, the neatly tucked bed, but it is the homemade star chart on the wall that keeps his attention. “Did you make this?”

“Yes.” She comes to stand next to him and touches her fingertip over a red dot among hundreds. “These are all the places I have traveled over the years. My original clan stayed in one place the whole time I was there. It wasn’t until I joined Deshanna’s that I saw more of the universe. They were always moving to different places.”

“Your family was transferred to the captain's clan, I presume?”

“No, just me.” She feels his eyes on her but she keeps her gaze straight, mouth in a line that hopefully says how little she wants to expand upon the matter further. 

Harel seems to understand and instead points to a white circle off by itself. “And this?”

“Don’t know your charts,  _Navigator_  Harel?”

“I have never seen one as...unique as this.” 

His tactful negotiations about her less than stellar drawing abilities brings a smile back to her lips. “It’s the Fenrir nebula. It has always been one of my favorites. I’ve never been anywhere close to it yet but hopefully one day I will get to see it in person.”

“I am sure your journeys have only begun. The life of the Herald of Andraste will no doubt be fraught with further adventures and accolades.”

She wants to comment on his well-natured smirk, but a realization catches her attention first. “You talk like them.” 

“Who?”

“The Elvhen in my visions. Like you’re from some ancient holo-novel. I’ve never heard an accent like yours before, not until this started happening anyways.” 

“Ah.” Harel turns away and walks towards the center of the room, hands clasped together. “You have heard of the Dalish that roam the Korcari Expanse?”

“Everyone has heard of them. Ships that go in there never come back out.”  The Korcari elves are something of a legend, reclusive even among Dalish standards. The other races have learned to leave them be after suffering brutal attacks. To be able to see them, to become one, is something every rebellious da’len dreams of. 

“Anthropology is something of a family tradition. My parents studied the clan for many years from outside the Expanse as well as inside. We were one of the few welcomed into their society for a time. They believe themselves to be the true stewards of our history and the forgotten tongue, or as much as can be remembered. I spent most of my formative years among them and adapted their way of speaking, it would seem.”

She remembers reading something about his parents in the file although nothing so detailed was available. It had only said they were scientists killed in the field. Perhaps his hesitance surrounding the Dalish is more than just from being academically spurned. “So you know Elvhen?”

“As I said, it is what they believed to be so. With little records surviving it is nearly impossible to determine the accuracy of such things, but the fact that the cadence is similar to the one in your visions adds more credence to their claims.”

“Either way, I’d love to hear some.” Keela sits down in a chair and tucks one of her legs underneath.

“Commander-”

She waves the title away. “We’re both off duty and I’m tired of people saluting me today. I just want to talk to another person like we’re both normal people for a while. Would that be so bad?”

Harel regards her for a moment, long enough for her to feel a  _please_  might be in order, before finally moving to join her. “I did agree to share more of my expertise with you, did I not? What would you like to learn?” 

He sits in the seat across from her with a posture that would make her drill sergeant proud, but as her questions continue he becomes more animated and alive. She watches his hands as he speaks, watches his face and eyes alight as her interest proves genuine. When they’ve moved on from simple things and the pretense of distance between them, she can’t resist the opportunity to ask him for more colorful translations. At first he shakes his head like a put upon hahren, but after she asks for the phrase  _you are a dick_  he laughs and the sound almost makes her gasp. It is a little undignified for his careful demeanor especially with that little snort at the end. The echo of it sends a surprising thread of warmth weaving down her spine. 

She can’t be sure if it’s her own sleep deprived state that encourages her next question or that laugh. “What about...you are really hot?”

The Lieutenant coughs into his hand, the tips of his ears turning bright. “There is no direct translation for that either I’m afraid. Something similar would be...”

The Elvhen he speaks seems more lyrical than usual or perhaps she is simply listening in a different way now. Regardless, there is a new deepness to his voice and she sees that same look he gave her at the space port when he spoke of her grace, like a challenge and a promise mixed together. “And what if you wanted to ask someone, hypothetically of course, if they wanted to sleep together?”

She isn’t quite sure what reaction she expects even if this is all supposed to be off the record. They barely know each other and while cadets can swap such things it’s likely not appropriate for senior officers. She’s probably broken a hundred protocols. But for a moment someone besides Deshanna is looking at her like she’s not the Herald or some strange elf with a stranger marc. Not to mention she can’t recall the last time she seriously asked someone that question right now.

Keela is about to open her mouth to change the subject when Harel surprises her again with a short laugh that rumbles, the sound of it and the way he keeps her gaze making her grip tight to her chair. He leans forward and she holds her breath. “Hypothetically, it would be-” They both jump and spring away from each other as an incoming call signal beeps from his marc, loud and ruinous. Harel clears his throat and whatever magic was between them away. “I, if you would give me a moment-”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He presses a command into his marc. “Yes?” 

“Lieutenant Harel? Hello, it’s Merrill- I mean, Officer Sabrae. If it’s not too much trouble could you come to the science wing? I wanted to discuss the eluvians. I’d ask Commander Lavellan but I’m sure she’s sleeping. Do you think she’s sleeping?” 

He looks at her and raises a brow. Keela smirks, biting her lip to keep quiet. “It is probably best not to bother her. I will be there shortly.”

They both stand as Sabrae says goodbye and their easy companionship ends as the call does. Harel is back to hands behind his back, features placid yet unreadable, and Keela remembers who she is as the marc squeezes around her wrist like an angry child forgotten.

“You should-”

“I should-”

Laughter leaves them but it sounds hollow after hearing it ring true. “It’s best not to keep Merrill waiting. She gets into too much trouble unsupervised.”

“I will see you tomorrow then, Commander. I hope you do find some rest.”

“Harel, wait,” she calls before he can step out through the door. He pauses, head turning to glance over his shoulder. “Thank you for...for the lessons.”

There is no reply but a quick nod and then he is gone. As soon as the door closes, Keela collapses back into her chair with a long, heavy sigh.


	12. Log Entry 10

Despite her fatigue, sleep does not come easily even though her dreams are the normal type when she manages to stop tossing and turning. Eventually she gives up on the whole venture and slips into training gear before heading down to the recreational area of  _Haven_. It is busier than she thought it would be and she pauses a few minutes to watch the interesting collection of people using the court space for basketball. 

Deshanna went to great lengths to have their expedition properly staffed and funded, made sure every order was stamped and signed and multiple copies made. Yet she hired a company called  _Chargers: Demolition and Excavation_ run by an exiled Qunari named Iron Bull. It apparently took some effort to convince their benefactors, but they are considered the best in the field despite appearances. She of all people should know better than to judge.

Some of Bull’s people square off against Ferelden’s finest while the boss watches from the sidelines. Keela is surprised to see Templar Hawke mixed in with navy soldiers, sweat dripping down a very determined brow. The expansive rooms fills with the squeak of shoes on polished floor, shouts and loud breaths, and even the occasional bout of laughter. It’s all a very strange sight, civilian clothes in different shapes and pressed uniforms mingling together, but so is shooting through space for a missing planet and the memories of dead people as the guide.

She stays close to the far wall and slips into one of the running sim rooms before she has to suffer a court full of salutes. A few quick keystrokes and the small, square space lights up with a favorite program. The white walls and floors disappear and drop her into Antiva City on a clear, bright day. Cracked streets move beneath her and wind blows against her skin, filled with the smell of spices and ripe with conversation. 

It is familiar in a way- the narrow streets resemble a ship’s corridors, the open squares like the mingling spaces of her clan filled with endless talk, but there were walls and ceilings closing her in for most of her life. Here, there is endless blue sky above. Here there is freedom and comfort mixing together and she tilts her head back to soak it all in.

A nagging thought interrupts her revelry and makes steps stutter - will she live long enough to see the city in person?

Thirty minutes later Keela steps out of the room and grabs a towel to wipe away the excursion. The game seems to have ended as well as some of the players rest on raised bleachers near the exit. It’s impossible for her to escape it this time, but at least there are only a few cadets left to jump up and address her.

“At ease.”

“Care to join us for another game, Commander?” Carver asks as he joins her, the bright ball passing between his hands. She’s not sure how their ranks match up, but she knows it’s probably not procedure for senior officers to shoots some hoops in their off hours.

“Not this time. Everybody seems to be getting along. What do you make of the Chargers?”

He gives a shrug. “They take some getting used to, but they seem to be good people. I was wondering-”

His words taper off just as his eyes wander away from her all of sudden. Keela turns to find the reason for the distraction and has to stop herself from smiling too wildly. Officer Sabrae walks through the sliding doors, gaze taking in the room before brightening when she sees her.

“Aneth ara, Commander!”

“Good morning, or afternoon. I’m not really sure.”

“Afternoon I think. It’s hard to say. I’ve been spending all my time with the eluvians until the captain threatened to throw me in the brig if I refused to take a break. I wonder where the brig is? Any matter, I thought I’d go for a swim.”

“Hello, Officer Sabrae,” Carver speaks up at last.

“Hello! Call me Merrill, please. Officer Sabrae sounds so…important.”

“But you are important. I mean, uh, to the mission, of course.”

“Oh, I don’t know-”

“Hey Hawke, you coming?” someone shouts from the court. Keela watches him struggle with indecision, fingers digging into the ball between his hands, and thankfully for him the decision gets taken away as Shale’s voice echoes around them.

“All s _enior officers and Chantry liaisons report to the forward conference room_.”

“Oh, it’s a good thing I didn’t change beforehand. I’m sure there’s no time. Can you imagine the looks I’d get in a bathing suit?”

One quick glance at Carver’s reddening face and she knows at least someone is imagining it. This time she does laugh. Keela motions towards the doors. “Come on, let’s not keep them waiting.”

“Good, you’re all here,” Deshanna says as the three of them enter the conference room. Keela takes her seat close to the captain’s side and meets Harel’s eyes across the table. He looks more reserved than normal and it takes her a moment to understand why -  _And what if you wanted to ask someone, hypothetically of course, if they wanted to sleep together?_  She tries to fight the heat rising up her cheeks, wonders how futile the effort is and just how far the nearest escape pod might be.

“We’ve heard back from headquarters. They have approved our flight plan and given permission for further investigation,” Captain Istimaethoriel announces and Keela feels relief wash away her own embarrassment. “It will take approximately fifty-four days to reach the new coordinates so it’s the cryo-tubes for us. This is a completely uncharted part of space so we don’t know what the ship might run into on the way there. It’s a good thing we have the fleet’s most advanced A.I.”

“ _Thank you, Captain. I will be able to make alterations to our trajectory and monitor all ship’s systems with a proven 98.78% success rate.”_

“Well that’s rather specific,” Anders remarks. “The crew should be fine. People have been in cryo for much longer than that. I’ll prepare the inoculations right away.”

“Shale will drop communication buoys at regular intervals so we can hopefully keep contact with HQ upon arrival. I want all stations prepared for re-emergence. Skiff fueled, the Chargers ready to disembark with their equipment, scanners set to take readings as soon as we enter range of the planet. Let’s see if we can get everything done by eighteen hundred tomorrow. Shale, start prepping the cryo-tubes.”

“ _Yes, Captain_.”

“I have no idea what we might find once we get there, so let’s try and prepare for as much as we can. Harel, I’d like you and Sulenera to spend some extra time in the flight sim. We still have no idea what conditions we’ll be flying into. Now, I want to go over the mission folder again before I send you out to assign your tasks.” 

It takes them some time to review their plans and adapt them based on new information since leaving Thedas behind. Once they stream out the doors and begin,  _Haven_  is a rush of activity as they all prepare for what is to come. Keela flits from station to station, level to level, to monitor the progress and offer assistance when she can. She helps Sten store their reserves in cold storage, hiding her smile at his Sad Face when he discovers that Taco Tuesday may not be happening for some time now.

She’s not quite sure if the Chargers are ready for the task. Their methods are a little unorthodox, so there seems little she can do but trust Iron Bull’s word and hope something doesn’t fall apart when they land on the planet. Varric Tethras wavers between excited and distressed and she understands - the concept of cryo sleep is not exactly her favorite thing either. 

She avoids checking up on their navigators as much as she can, even going so far as to volunteer for her inoculation instead of making Anders chase her down for once. It is foolish, this avoidance, like she is some da’len playing chase with skinny kneed Casanovas. A casual dalliance she could manage, but there seemed to be something more in the deep warmth of Harel's eyes. A complication when she doesn’t need anymore. 

At nineteen hundred the next day the crew of  _Haven_  steps into their cryopods to skip the long journey to Arlathan ahead. After careful monitoring and final systems’ checks, the senior staff are the last ones to climb inside. 

Deshanna glances around the empty command center and lets out a sigh. “Shale, take good care of my ship.”

“ _Of course, Captain Istimaethoriel._ ”

Keela helps her inside the pod, keeping her gaze for a few moments, before Deshanna gives a nod. “I’ll see you on the other side then. Sweet dreams, Lavellan.”

“You too, Captain,” Keela says and watches the door seal with a hiss. Getting into her own capsule proves a bit more challenging. She stares at the small space, imagines the door shutting and locking her within, and the thought stirs her stomach into a whirlpool. 

“ _Commander, do you require assistance?”_

“No Shale, I just-” Harel approaches her side and Keela gives a weak laugh. “Flex flight makes me sick, I get nervous about cryo sleep…who would ever believe I was born and raised on a star ship?”

“Have you much experience?”

“No, actually. None. Just the process is gone over in training.”

Harel holds out his hand and she finds it cool but not unpleasantly so as she takes his silent offer. It’s a gentle difference to her always warm skin and she clings to the thought of his soft skin as he helps her into the chamber. “I will wait outside until your cycle has begun.”

“Really, you don’t have-”

“It is no bother and standard protocol for those new to the procedure, if I recall.” Together they connect sensors to her skin and slip the mask over her face. When she is ready, the lieutenant steps back outside but pauses, hand upon the heavy door. He says something, a phrase of Elvhen that adds a deep timber to his voice, and she can’t be sure if it’s the ice of cryo in her veins or the sound of it that makes her shiver. 

“What?”

Harel grins and the storm inside shifts to something lighter. “The answer to your last inquiry, albeit something a bit more suggestive when converted. I will be happy to dissect it properly for you when we awaken. Rest well, Commander.”

Her mouth hangs open as he closes the door soundly. Keela is quick to snap it shut when his face appears beyond the small window. The cryo-tube begins to cycle through its stages and she momentarily panics, fingers gripping tight. But he keeps his word by standing vigil outside as frost begins to coat the glass and numb her limbs, and the calm in his expression eases her away into the cold void. Her last thought is hoping that if there are dreams at all they will be filled with him instead of someone else.

A complication indeed.


	13. The Lyrium Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's FenHawke week on Tumblr and I love me some Fenhawke so here's a little side chapter. Fenris is a player in a popular game where people use lyrium inside their skin to create unique abilities and Hawke is an actress in this universe.

The court is his.

He knows it the moment he steps onto the black and white colored tiles. The crowd knows it too as they stomp their feet and chant his name.  _Ghost, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost,_ they say _,_ low and loud, like a rumbling wave crashing into shore. He knows this game like he was destined for nothing else, although that’s not completely accurate. He was bred for it and there is a difference in the word choice. 

Sharp eyes gaze across at the four opponents on the other side of the pyramid’s top. Their Keeper, a massive qunari with green lyrium arrows wrapped around his arms and legs to increase their speed, pounds the edge of a heavy mallet into one hand. Another has flames of orange etched in her skin- no surprise what her specialty will be. A man stands next to her with blue tattoos designed to make him slippery when touched. The last, an elf like him, wears thick, red circles up and down his body. _Crusher,_  they call him. No need to guess at his talent either.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the quarterfinals! Winners of this game will go on to battle the Val Royeaux Royals for a chance to go to this year’s championships. Squaring off are our very own Tevinter Sandsnakes-” the announcer pauses as the arena shakes with roars and shouts. “versus the Antiva City Crows.”

The heavy boos filter down to him, mixed with a few brave cheers, but his thoughts are only for the game ahead. The lights dim, leaving him alone in a spot of light with the  _Crow_ ’s captain. Everything fades away except his steady heartbeat as they wait beneath the ball drop. He takes a breath before the buzzer sounds and leaps upwards into the shining light. When his fingers brush against the yellow ball he pulls upon the lyrium etched into his skin, feels the rush of it fill his veins and change them. He is a blur as he shoots forward through his opponent and into enemy territory. 

His talent is to disappear, to fade through the field, to be the ghost that no one can catch, and there has never been anyone able to hold him for long.

The _Crows_  put up a noble fight, but in the end it is the _Sandsnakes_ that claim victory. Next week they will travel to Orlais and then, hopefully, on to Orzammar where the championships will be held this year. Unfortunately for him, however, he must play a different sort of game before then.

He resists the urge to tug at the necktie and shift within the fancy suit his agent forced upon him. Cheers and requests chase him as he walks down the red carpet with his teammates. As captain, it is impossible for him to weasel his way out of this celebration party which will no doubt be filled with empty conversations and people capitalizing on something they did not earn.

“Smile, Fenris,” a teammate says. He tries to relax his face and earns a chuckle for the effort. “Close enough.”

The inside of the popular club sounds just as loud as an arena. He’s assaulted by the streaming lights and booming music, by the praises and questions from adoring fans and press alike. He does his best to weave through the crowd, to face this with a strategy like it is another opponent. The constantly filled glass in his hand helps, but soon the noisy crowd and the wine in his blood becomes too much to handle. Fenris manages to escape onto one of the outside balconies. 

Hovercars whiz by above and below, the city a sparkling, writhing thing pulsing with constant movement, but it is quiet enough to catch his breath. Quiet, although not unoccupied apparently.

“Sick of the spotlight?”

He does not jump in surprise, but it is a near thing. Someone melts out of the shadows to his left- long legs left bare, body encased in a fitted black dress with heavy crystals along the dipping collar. Blue eyes brighter than the skies of Ferelden and red, red lips that split with a playful grin.

“We both picked the wrong professions, it seems.” If he did not recognize her voice, her face is not so easily forgettable. It’s plastered on many a billboard, seen on holoscreens across systems. “Marian Hawke, pleasure to meet you. Hell of a game today, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he says and takes a step back towards the club, but stops as her voice reaches him again.

“Kind of boring, though.”

“Excuse me?”

The famous actress steps closer to him. “The Sandsnakes have the best players in the league. Every year since Danarius has been in charge it’s been a given that you’ll go to the championships. Seems like it would all get very unsatisfying after awhile.”

He crosses his arms, smirking despite himself. “Winning the championship is unsatisfying?”

“Doesn’t some part of you crave a bigger challenge? To be pushed to your limit and beyond it, to have to fight tooth and nail for victory? To live on the edge of knowing you might lose it all? Don’t you miss it?”

He does. Not until this moment did he truly realize just how much. “What are you suggesting?”

“Next year I will have the immense honor of becoming the Kirkwall _Viscounts’_ owner-” 

Fenris gives a snort. “And you want me to take your advice?”

“I want you to play for me.”

He takes a moment to see if she might laugh at her own joke. “You want me to play for a team that hasn’t reached the playoffs in decades, let alone held a winning season in almost as long?”

“Your contract with the Snakes is up this year. You could go wherever you wanted.”

No, he couldn’t. “You are rich, to be sure, but you could never offer me something equal.”

Hawke moves forward again, close enough to be caught up in the caramel of her perfume, and something about her expression has him stuck in place. “I’ve been watching your career for a long time. We both know you don’t play for the money or for the glory. You play because there’s a hungry beast inside and the game quiets it. But it’s not working so well anymore, is it?”

Fenris studies her a little closer. There’s something about the passion he finds in her eyes that pulls at him. He’s heard her lines in movies before, watched her award winning roles, but this is different. This is real. He doesn’t know how an actress could understand the desire within his heart, but he can see it burning through her clear eyes. 

“You don’t have to decide right now. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind, what with the upcoming games and all.” She reaches into the bodice of her dress and pulls out a white card, red painted fingers holding it out to him, and he takes it without really thinking. Hawke goes to return to the party and pauses by his side, whispered words close enough to feel. “Just don’t forget about me.”

When she is gone he glances down at the card with an emblazoned hawk reaching down with sharp talons and he doesn’t think forgetting Marian Hawke will be something so easily done now.


	14. Log Entry 11

_This picks up from where[Entry Three](http://jessicapendragon.tumblr.com/post/121818319054/collision-course3) left off so we’re back in present time now! Warnings for this chapter: Some swearing, because Oghren._

* * *

 

The condition of the ship is much worse in the lower sections. When the lift door opens a fallen beam and clutter block her way forward, some of it collapsing inwards to block the elevator. She resists the urge to let the biotics in her blood fly free to blast it all out of her way and is grateful for the hesitation when she hears voices drawing near.

“We’ll have to go into the crawl spaces if we can’t-Commander!” Vallen’s bright hair shines even in the dim hallway lights. She’s accompanied by the Chantry sister who has an impressive scowl of her own as they take in the situation.

“Help me out of here.” It takes a few minutes to clear enough space for Keela to escape and drag the debris cluttering the lift away. “Have you investigated this level? The crew?”

“There are several hull breaches and whatever air out there is toxic. We’ve patched up what we could and closed off the sections that are too damaged. I-”

“Stop. You said the air is toxic?”

“Yes. High levels of methane, carbon monoxide. We’ll not be able to breathe very easily out there without equipment.”

It is not the welcome home she expected. What happened to their planet to make it so inhospitable? “What else?”

“I’ve no casualties to report as of yet, only injured, but we are still searching. We were on our way to see if we could get the lift working,” Vallen answers.

“Heard from Oghren?”

“No, Commander.” _Captain_ , Keela almost corrects even if it still feels all wrong.

“What has happened?” Pentaghast asks.

“There was some type of malfunction,” she replies as if it’s not obvious. “Shale is still running diagnostics but we did manage to crash onto the right planet at least. The way should be cleared to Medical. Do you have someone that can help you?”

“Yes, Templar Hawke is back with the others.” 

“Sister, if you would come with me then. I might need the help.”

It takes some time to make it to the center of the ship through stubborn doors and around smoking consoles. All of engineering is dark when they arrive, sparks sending scents of ozone into the already smoke filled air, and Keela coughs from the offensive odor. 

“Are you sure there is anyone in here?” Pentaghast asks, a grimace hidden behind her gloved hand.

Somewhere from the right someone bellows in anger. “Sodding, no good nug humping piece of shite! I’ll tear you apart!”

They follow the string of profanities and threats to find a dwarf banging on a flashing panel. He’s covered in soot and scratches, red hair and pale skin splotched with grease. “Oghren.”

“Wha? Oh, hey Commander.”

“Are you all right?”

“Ha! I woke up upside down and stumbled into this mess. I’d like to give that navigator of ours a piece of my mind.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Sodding ports are flooded with something nasty, the main circuits are buggered and one of the drive couplings is ruined. We’re not going anywhere unless you wanna get out and push.” 

“Can you get it fixed?”

“I could. I could shit out diamonds too but neither of those things are likely gonna happen anytime soon- uh, ma’am.”

Pentaghast makes a noise. “Charming.”

“There’s something mighty strange about the coupling damage. C’mere.”

Oghren takes them down a level to get a better look at  _Haven’s_  massive engine. Usually it hums, shaking the metal catwalks beneath feet, but now it is cold and dark. The sight of it sets a stone rolling through Keela’s stomach. It is the fear of every captain to see their ship so lifeless. With a flourish, Oghren motions towards the ruined coupling. There is definitely something off about it, blown all the way to the wall as if pushed, burn marks on the ground below its origin point spreading out like the after image of a firework.

“Some kind of explosion?” Pentaghast guesses. 

“Looks like it to me. I found this scrap nearby.” Oghren tosses a piece of metal into the Sister’s hand. “It ain’t from anything in here, I can tell you that.”

“A bomb? You believe someone sabotaged the ship?”

“I looked over every inch of this baby before we left port. I’d bet my beard someone put it there before we took our ice naps, maybe after.”

“That would be madness. They’d kill themselves as well.”

“People that plant bombs are usually mad enough to go up with them.” Oghren glances at Keela. “Looks like someone didn’t want you reaching this homeland in one piece.”

The idea sticks in her mind as she leaves engineering behind and checks on the rest of the ship. Every level seems to have suffered some amount of destruction. The cargo bay is perhaps the worst of it- heavy equipment broken free of its restraints and thrown across the floor, one wall scratched open like a great beast tore into the side, and someone has erected a field to protect them from the environment outside. The Iron Bull assures her he’ll have it good as new in no time and while she has her doubts she leaves the qunari and his team to the task. 

The tidiest place on the ship seems to be the mess hall of all places. Keela walks in expecting chairs and food splattered all over the walls and finds everything in neat order instead. There are even bowls of food at the bar, pints of ice cream and stacks of fruits. Sten stands behind the counter with emergency lights facing down at his cutting board as he prepares some type of meat.

“How did you manage all this?” she asks.

“I always take extra precautions,” he replies and gestures towards the food on display. “I suggest you and the crew consume these while you can. Power to a few of the fridges is out and by your face I assume it will not return soon.”

There are a million things she needs to do, a thousand other places that require her presence, but Keela takes a moment to grab a spoon and dig into the slowly melting strawberry ice cream. It is smooth, the fruit pieces bursting with ripe flavor, and she finds it all hard to swallow as the weight of the last few hours seems to rise to the surface now that she’s stopped for a minute. Here, where the quiet is disrupted only by a knife chopping against wood, cold reality creeps down her throat to make the sweetness bitter.

“Deshanna is dead.”

Sten does not speak or move, only stands there in silence with his Surprised Face as Keela bows her head and tries to grasp her composure again. Despite their immense setbacks they are so close. They are on _Arlathan_ and whatever truths and hopes remain are right outside waiting to be found, but it seems like taking that final step will be a massive thing on its own. She feels like the ship, bones shattered and circuits exposed, listing on her side helpless.

There’s a clunk above her head and she looks up to find Sten sliding another cup of ice cream towards her full of rich chocolate and swirling with fudge. “This one will help more.”

He draws a laugh from her, the sight coaxing Keela to take a long, steadying breath, and she does not argue as she helps herself to a giant spoonful, and then another. Each inhale and piece steels her strength until she stands straight again, mind clearing and heart remembering to beat. The ship may be broken, but they are both made of tougher things. “Thank you.”

“It is only my duty, Captain.”

After an interesting detour to command where she meets in the crawl spaces with Harel, Keela heads to medical next to see how Anders is fairing. There are thankfully few who need serious attention while others suffer from small cuts or bruises. When she enters almost everyone in the room quiets and turns to look at her. She guesses the truth is out by the way they salute with grim faces.

“What’s the word, Captain?” Anders asks and she feels the weight of their expectant gazes.

Keela tells them of the captain’s fate, the damage done to the engines and communication and a dozen other systems across the ship. For now she leaves out the suspicion of sabotage. Without proof it will do them no good and the saboteur could be in the room. She does her best to encourage them all, walking around and patting shoulders, asking after their well being.

“It will be one problem at a time. When you can, head to your stations to assist with the damage diagnostic but don’t push yourselves. We will all need to stay sharp here. Sulenera, are you all right?”

“Yes m’am.” There is a bandage around the ensign’s arm but otherwise she seems to be one of the luckier ones.

“Good. Go check on the skiff. I need to know if it’s still functional.” 

As Sulenera leaves the room Varric enters with one of his crew members in tow. Keela had almost forgotten about the film maker in all the chaos, but if he is offended by her negligence he does not express it. There is only worry creasing the space between his brows. “Do not tell me there is another problem.”

“Sorry, Captain, but I figure you’ll be drowning in them by the end of the day.”

“What is it?”

Varric glances around the infirmary and sighs when he does not find what he wants. “It’s my cameraman. He’s missing.”

An hour later they locate his corpse in one of the crawl spaces below engineering, half of his burnt body stuck beneath rubble. The senior staff and Varric all congregate within the section as Anders zips the deceased in a black bag. 

“Thought there was a smell,” Oghren comments as he scratches at his beard.

“Can’t be dead for more than a day,” Anders declares. It seems they have found the one responsible for the explosion and their current predicament, but Keela wonders if he was truly alone.

Keela rounds on Varric. “Start talking, Tethras.”

The dwarf puts up his hands. “Hey, I had nothing to do with this. I barely knew the guy.”

“You barely knew someone you brought on a deep space mission?”

“My usual worker got sick before we left. The studio assigned the next one, said he came highly recommended. There wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

“He was cleared through appropriate channels,” Vallen adds. “Means he was very smart or had someone within helping him.”

Sabrae gasps. “There could be more of them?” 

“It could be any of us,” Anders says, glancing around at their small assembly with narrowed eyes. There are only a few Keela can rule out with absolutely certainty but the others are unknowns. The Chargers, the Chantry, ensigns and officers that she’s never worked with before. Who would benefit the most if this expedition never returned?

“Are communications up yet?” Keela asks of Harel.

“No. Sulenera is continuing to work in my absence, however. It is possible it will be functional within the hour.”

She thinks about General Stannard and that uneasy smile. “Let me know when it is ready. Do not send a message without my permission first.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know, Aveline. My concerns are this crew and this mission and until we know more I’m not putting either in more jeopardy. Please escort Mister Tethras and his associate to their quarters where they will stay awaiting further notice.” Keela shoots him a look that stops whatever rebuttal cold. She waits until the trio are gone before speaking again. “Oghren, anything good to report?”

“I’m still finding shite everywhere, ma’am.”

She thinks about Sulenera’s findings. “The skiff is in one piece. Could we cannibalize it?”

“Sure but then we might have two ships that aren’t working.” 

“We could use it to get home?” Sabrae suggests. 

“It only has six cryo-tubes. We could fit seven more but they would have to be awake until they reached Amaranthine. Meanwhile the rest of us would be here on a hostile planet. Have you analyzed more of it?”

“Yes, there’s-”

A screech pierces through Keela’s mind as the marc clamps around her wrist. She watches the green lines shiver and grow, each pulse sending waves of agony up her arm and down her spine. Something else is burning against her skull but she can’t concentrate on anything but the pain and the pressure of voices pushing to break free.

 _Keela._ _Find us…_

“What’s happening?”

“The inhibitor, get it off of her!”

_I will tell our story. I will make them listen until their ears bleed._

_We will not be silenced any longer!_

__THEY MUST PAY._  
_

She sees flashes of scenes - fires and bodies piled upon one another, faceless and forgotten, floating cities falling from the heavens. Children’s laughter turns to crying as they are led away with chains dragging and she can do nothing. Shame and grief pull her down - it is her fault, all of it. She watches family, friends and lovers turn to dust before her eyes and the things inside her turn darker, heavier. There is blood on her hands, anger and hatred so fierce in her heart she thinks they might burn the world away and she wants to scream until every corner of the universe knows her name.

“Keela.” Something cool touches her hand, her face, and the visions and voices swirl away in a cleansing wind. When she blinks it is Harel that she finds. For a moment she thinks they might be back in the Elvhen ship but as the fog lifts she can smell the metal and oil of the engine room. She gasps, searching for air again, and tries like before to latch onto the bursts of color in his eyes to calm herself. The look he wears distracts her however - it is pained, lost, such a strange thing that it makes her want to be the one to reach out and comfort.

“I am sorry,” he whispers. Before she can understand more he is gone and Anders settles in his place. 

“Captain? Can you hear me?” Keela tries to follow Harel’s movements, but the doctor grabs hold of her chin and shines too bright a light into her eyes. “Captain?”

She jerks in his grasp. “Yes, I’m here. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Your marc just started glowing. The signal completely blew the inhibitor.” He holds the small device in his palm, burnt out and charred, and Keela lifts a hand to her neck to find it sore and slick with blood. “Sorry, had to rip it off. Good thing I brought my bag.”

As he reaches for the medical supply there is an unfamiliar beep. Another shortly follows, then another, creating a steady but insistent chain. “What is that?” someone asks.

Keela glances down at her marc to find the screen filled with lines circling and bending, a mess of confusion if one does not know a map of topography when they see it. In the upper right hand corner a lone dot blinks red. The marc has given her a new coordinate - not something celestial and far away, but terrestrial and _here_ , and somehow she knows it will be the last. “I need to get off this ship. Now.”

* * *

_So the[Unknown Entry](http://jessicapendragon.tumblr.com/post/125456007134/collision-courseunknown-entry) would fit in with this chapter. I might combine them someday, but for now…know there was almost kissing here. :)_


	15. Log Entry 12

“Captain, we should discuss this.”

“We can discuss it on the way.” Keela ignores the rest of Vallen’s protests and calls Iron Bull with her marc. “How fast can you be ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“Everything. We’re leaving the ship.” 

“Shit, twenty minutes? It’s gonna be light. Lot of our equipment is too buried. Heavy excavator is definitely busted.”

“I want some of your crew to stay behind and help fix the ship anyways. Just…bring the essentials, whatever that is. And make it fifteen and I’ll see you get an extra ten percent if we ever make it back. I-”

“ _Unauthorized launch of an escape pod in progress,_ ” Shale’s voice bounces off the metal walls.

“What? Who?”

“ _Unknown. They are overriding my commands and oh- they have successfully separated from the ship now_. _I am…not pleased_.”

“That makes two of us.” She gives orders to the senior officers around her - Vallen will remain with the ship to command in her absence, Anders staying with the wounded while Sabrae accompanies her to the coordinates. Her expertise will no doubt help with whatever awaits them. “Sister Pentaghast, I’d like you to stay behind as well. Templar Carver will come with us. And Tethras, someone go get him for me. I want to keep him close. Shale, I-”

“Captain Lavellan! Captain!” As they turn the corner Ensign Sulenera runs towards them, bright eyes wide and lungs gasping for air. “It’s…Lieutenant Harel, he’s taken one of the escape pods. I didn’t-I wasn’t sure if I should stop him, I’m sorry.”

“ _It appears he is following a similar course to the location your marc has provided, Captain.”_

“Why? What could be there that’s so important?” Anders asks.

Keela thinks about Harel’s eyes full of guilt and shame and something dark like the endless abyss of empty space. There was a distant memory attached to the touch of his hand, a half remembered thing in the way the voices called out in her mind. The marc’s power sings up her spine and she grits her teeth, steels her resolve. “I plan to find out. Suit up Shale, you’re coming too.”

Within seventeen minutes the skiff rises through the toxic, swamp air and follows the path of Harel’s escape pod. Even with larger engines they’ll never catch him before he reaches the marc’s mark. Keela only hopes that there will still be time to stop him if she must. The others aren’t sure about his intentions but she knows them, somehow. Like the way a room was once organized before the furniture moved - known and forgotten at the same time.

“Some parts of the planet seem habitable enough although looks like that wasn’t always the case,” Sabrae announces as her eyes flit from her screen to stare in wonder at the world around them. “There are signs of old factories like oil, gas, nuclear. An unnatural warming event happened with some nuclear fallout too I bet. Quite a mess actually, but it’s been years since someone lived here. Centuries.”

“Can you see what we’re headed for yet?” Keela asks.

“Long range scans say-" 

_Static noise blares in her brain as the skiff disappears in a flash. She finds herself on a battlefield set beneath a bright sun and cloudless sky. Gunfire punches the ground by her feet, sending sprays of road and earth bursting upwards. She ducks beneath a tree cracked in half._

_“They’re overwhelming us!” she shouts in a voice too deep to be her own._

_“How did they get through the barrier? It should not be possible!” another yells above the din of war. They’re all elves wearing golden armor and heavy marcs around their wrists- ones just like hers. The soldier next to her looks over his shoulder and his dark eyes widen. “Look out! It’s-”_

_She never gets to find out what it was as she’s thrown back onto the deck of the skiff. Hands and knees digs into the unforgiving metal and she feels like she’s falling apart again, like she could easily seep through the voids in the weave beneath her._

Something heavy rests between her shoulder blades. “You okay, Boss?”

Keela glances up and recoils at the sight - a man with wide horns and patch over one eye. A monster, she thinks, but no. No. She knows this face, knows his name somewhere on her heavy tongue. “You…The Iron Dragon?”

“Uh, no. But shit, that would’ve been a lot better.”

“Bull, Iron Bull. I’m sorry, I…” 

“Oh my!” Sabrae’s exclamation pulls at their attention. “It’s not a mountain, it’s a structure! It’s…it’s  _huge_.”

With Bull’s help, Keela makes it back to the viewport and catches sight of the mammoth thing they’re quickly approaching. It does look like a mountain with green life growing atop, but the shape of it is too strange in some places, the gentle slope of a dome, unnatural pillars growing upwards at one end. Further down she can see metal peeking through vines and roots, but everything blurs as a wave of nausea and weakness sweeps over her.

“Should’ve brought the doc. She’s not looking too good,” Bull comments and moves to support her better. “Maybe we-”

“No,” Keela says, more to herself than to anyone else, and punches her palm down onto the back of Sulenera’s seat. “Get us down there.”

The ensign lands the ship a few hundred feet away from the structure and stays behind as the rest of the crew steps out into filtered sunlight wearing full masks and armor. Iron Bull and his second in command keep a hover pack between them full of excavation equipment and a few weapons, for they have no idea what awaits them inside. The most impressive piece of technology walks out of the skiff last. The robot is a massive thing made of durable, dynamic metals segmented into many pieces and intricate hydraulics and electronics that hiss and shine with each step taken, but it doesn’t belong to the Chargers.

“You all right, Shale?” Merrill asks.

“ _Systems are normal.”_ Gigantic fists uncurl and curl as the A.I. glances at itself and then lifts glowing eyes up into the sky above. “ _I have never been outside before. There was no time to test this prototype out in the field. Why does the ground squish underfoot?”_

“Let’s go,” Keela says and drags herself towards the looming fortress ahead. They come across Harel’s pod as they grow nearer. The door is left ajar, lights flashing bright on the console inside, and she can see footprints in the soft ground. They follow his path and come across a part of the structure free of underground and decay. It looks like an airlock, round and a few people wide across.

“I can probably crack the door. The tech looks old so should be easy,” Krem says as he begins to fish through the stash of equipment.

Varric shakes his head as he releases one of his camera spheres into the air. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you were on the last mission.”

“Don’t you want to make history, Varric?” Hawke speaks up.

“Not if it makes  _me_ history, Junior.”

The Templar groans. “Don’t call me that.”

 _Keela._ She sucks in a breath as a voice breathes into her ear and twists her body around to find no one there.  _You know the way. You are the way._ The marc around her wrist vibrates with excitement and she knows. She can see it in her mind, a seed planted there by someone else’s hand. There is the world that is and a world shooting up from the ground and blooming before her eyes.

“What are you-” She steps passed Krem and lifts her palm up towards the center of the rounded door. The lines going up and down her arm pulse once, twice, race down her fingers and seem to travel into the metal below. There’s a whirl, a groan, before pieces begin to separate and shift. The door rolls away with barely a whisper and reveals a short hallway with another similar blockade at the end.

“Well that’s…weird, right?” Bull remarks as Keela doesn’t hesitate to step inside.

Varric gives a short laugh. “Just you wait, Tiny. I have a feeling the real fun is only beginning.”

With varying degrees of exuberance the rest of the team trails the captain into the corridor. The door shuts behind Shale and throws the small space into a brief darkness before long lights on the floor and ceiling blaze on. Something in the walls seems to come to life as a low humming sound filling the air before the lights expand and wash over them all.

“It’s like a scrubber,” Hawke says. “Maybe it’s a science facility?”

“How can it still be working after all this time?” Sabrae reaches out to touch the walls, a sparkling white despite the world outside, and the panels turn blue beneath her touch like ripples atop a pond. After a brief cycle, the hall returns to its normal illumination and the door at the end opens. “There’s oxygen in here,” she announces as she checks her marc. “Nitrogen…no traces of harmful chemicals. I think it’s okay to take off our helmets.”

Keela is the first to take off her own and takes a tentative sip of the air around them. It is somewhat stale, like the smell of a library locked away, but better than some of the filtered air she’s had to endure in other places. It gets easier to breathe as they step out of the small chamber and into another hallway much larger with two branches curving out of sight.  “This way,” she announces and moves towards the left.

“How do you know?”

“I can see it.” She can hear it too. Elves walk the pathways around them, apparitions that move right through their supply cache and their bodies. Their ghostly voices sound like songs as Elvhen fills the hall and she can understand some of it at times, like she is bobbing up from the deep waters to hear the gulls above. 

Around the corner they come across a strange panel sticking out from a side wall. A hole rests in the center with a black substance that moves like inky water. She knows, quite suddenly, exactly what to do. Despite the protests of the others, Keela sticks her arm with the marc inside. The liquid is cool against her skin and lights up with green energy that shoots through the rest of the large panel and starts a chain reaction of awakening across every door and panel in sight. She feels the texture of the ground beneath her, the wiring running through the walls, the moss and growth growing against the exoskeleton outside. She can see the fighting ships in the hangar, the number of chairs in the galley. 

She can see Harel ten levels above them pause in his pacing and turn towards the sounds coming from below and she  _knows_  - it is not a factory. It is not a building at all. “This is a ship.”

“What? Really? Must be three times as big as anything in the fleet,” Hawke says.

“And this is some sort of interface with the main computer, but I can’t do much from here. I think this is only a minor maintenance post.”

“Do you think it works with any marc?” Keela removes her hand and steps aside for Sabrae’s curiosity. The scientist sticks her hand into the strange device without much fear. It solidifies at her knuckles, turning an angry red, and she retracts her arm with a gasp. “Merrill!”

“I’m okay,” she says as she turns her hand over and over. She tries again, slower this time, and the same thing happens. “I guess not.”

“So. A marc, a human invention mind you, that you found in some ruins underground brought us all the way here to Arlathan, the Elvhen homeworld, and is the only thing that can interact with this place, this ship,” Varric summarizes. “And somewhere in here is our missing pilot who somehow also managed to board without trouble. Stop me when I start making sense.”

“Maybe we can look for spare parts, or-”

 _No!_  the voices shout over Hawke’s words.  _The truth. We have been silent for too long._

_She blinks and finds herself standing on a beach with sand cooling between her toes. The sun sets against the velvet waves, casting the sky in brilliant colors like paint swirled across a sapphire canvas. In the darkening light she can see a figure perched at the edge of sand and surf, pants rolled high against their calves as lazy waves lap against feet._

_There is something familiar about the figure in front of her, something familiar about this place and the rolling dunes around them, but she cannot dwell on the thoughts long as she approaches. She doesn’t speak - there’s an ethereal quality the quiet moment, the held breath as day turns into night, that she doesn’t want to break. When she’s close enough to reach out and touch they turn to face her and she sees the edge of a smile before the sunset explodes and throws her into another memory._

_It is daytime but she can hardly tell through all the black clouds burning and ships zooming low above. The quiet surf has been replaced by heavy gunfire and screams. Blood paints the ground red and the waves surge with it in a frothy pink mixture full of debris and destruction. The sky is not falling gently - it is crashing around them._ _For all the noise it is quiet in her head, filled with a buzzing sound of disbelief as she surveys the carnage of her kin laying in waste around her. It should be loud with the chorus of her friends, all their thoughts looped together and working as one to fight their enemy, but there is only a silence as deep as it is lonely. She is the only one left._

_As her knees crash into the sand she lets out a scream that no one can hear._

“Captain!”

It is Templar Hawke that holds her this time. The emblem emblazoned on his armor swims as if it is a sword forged from rubber and a rushing noise like a tidal wave fills her head. 

“Oh, her nose!” comes Sabrae’s cry.

“Hold on, I have a med kit in here somewhere.” Keela brings a few fingers to her nose as The Iron Bull looks through his stash and pulls them back to see blood coating the tips. She’s not sure who helps her wipe away the rest or hold the cloth there until the bleeding stops. It seems a long time before her head is clear enough to see her people properly, and when she does they are all wearing concern.

“No,” she says before anyone bothers to suggest they turn back, her voice coarse like she’s swallowed salt water. There will be no surviving this if she leaves. There may be no surviving this if she stays, but the memories, the voices… “I have to finish this. I have to find it.”

“Find what?” Varric asks.

“The truth.”

 _Haven’_ s crew drops into silence, sharing loaded glances and disagreements working inside their minds, and it is Shale that finally steps forward. “ _Then I suggest you remove yourself from the floor. I doubt it will be found there.”_ Without a warning, Shale bends down and scoops her up and Keela is too tired to do anything but frown in annoyance. The texture of the robot’s outer surface changes to something smooth and almost soft and she rests her cheek against the cool comfort offered. “ _Which course now, Captain?”_

In her mind she sees Harel somewhere in the ship above and now recognizes the shape of the person on the beach in the way he stands with hands clasped behind his back, in the way his mouth curled into a grin inside her quarters, in the way his eyes were as desperate as the wretched cry of a soul alone. He is an answer, in a sea of questions. “Up.”


	16. A Wild World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief, silly interlude with Ensign Sulenera as she gets a little too close to the wildlife on the planet. :)

_Stay with the ship_ , the captain says. 

She’s always staying with the ship. Never mind that she is the only one around for miles that could fly it with any skill, or that she really isn’t cleared for intense fieldwork, or that this mission is already turning out to be more than she could have ever imagined. Sulenera wants to explore with the others but more importantly she wants to find Harel and throttle him for tricking her.  

Officially, no one needs to know that the Flight Lieutenant locked her in one of the skiff’s lockers when she caught him trying to initiate a flight sequence. She hadn’t believed his orders with all that sweat rolling down his face and the sadness in his eyes. Despite it all, she is worried for her friend and hopes the captain and the others will find him before he does something stupid again. She just wishes she was there to help.

“This is ridiculous,” she decides and stands up from her chair for the tenth time. “We’re on Arlathan! I should be…doing something. Gathering information. They can’t get mad at me for that.” Besides, she doesn’t plan to let the ship out of her sight. 

She grabs some equipment from the locker Harel shoved her into and scowls all the while before giving the door a hard slam. In a few minutes she’s standing outside in the heavy light of two far away suns. She can’t feel the air through her suit or helmet, but the gauge on her marc lets her know its humid and just a little too toxic to breathe for great lengths of time. With a grunt, she lifts the survey tripod out of its box and sets it up to scan into the distant valley beyond. There’s something eerily beautiful about this world. There are bones of civilization sticking up everywhere - a crumbling skyscraper there, a bridge bowed in there, and all of it covered in a green so deep that it looks like patches of night in places. 

She can’t believe it. “I’m standing on Arlathan. _Arlathan_.”

With a quick glance around, she dips down towards the ground and tugs off one of her gloves. A few warning signs blink against the surface of her helmet but she only needs a little bit of time for her plans. The air is hot and sticky, the grass between her fingertips warm and a little sharp, but she’s never felt anything more magical as she touches the ground, as she touches her people’s homeworld. Hundreds of years ago her ancestors walked here, talked here, lived here, and it seems an impossible thing to be here now too.When the warning signs start to be accompanied by an alarming bell, Sulenera sadly slips her glove back on. 

She begins to rise and lifts her eyes to soak in the view again, but finds a pair of eyes staring at her instead.

A scream sticks in her throat and comes out more like a note sung off key as her body recoils backwards and thumps down into the dirt. Instinct has her scrambling back of a few feet, but curiosity stops her from running back to the ship all together.

An animal sits atop her equipment, something small with large eyes and a long, long tail. Tufts of strange hair that look like colorful stalks of flowers stick up from between its pointed ears and swing back and forth as it studies her in return. It could easily fit into her pack and reminds her of a monkey although this creature seems to change colors like a chameleon - its body is a startling blue while its legs match the yellow color of the survey tripod and when it jumps down to the grass it turns a matching emerald. 

“Wow,” she whispers and with awe watches it begin to riffle through the open container with all the rest of the gear she brought with her. The animal makes a few noises as it tosses things from the box, chirps and sounds like sneezes, and Sulenera lets out a laugh as it seems to berate a water sampler.

It turns to her, big eyes blinking, and then tries to imitate her laughter. It’s a little warbled but sounds incredibly close all things considered. And then it  _is_  close, reaching out with large paws and climbing all over her armor. It takes special interest in her helmet, knocking its little fists against the clear coating and leaving a slimy trail after its tongue tries to get a taste. 

“I’m not for eating, sorry. Hey that isn’t either!” she says as it bounces back and sticks one of Merrill’s expensive gadgets into its mouth. It looks between her and the device and she swears, _she swears_ , it gives her a smile before it races away towards the trees. “Hey! Nonono, come back!”

She chases after it without a thought to leaving the ship behind. All she can imagine is seeing Sabrae and Lavellan’s disappointed gazes as she tries to explain how a monkey lizard thing stole something likely worth more than her yearly stipend. The animal swings above her head just out of reach, hooting with attempts at her laughter every time she comes close to grabbing the device from its grasp. The colors of its fur flash in bright colors, taunting her further into the lush trees. “You’re going to regret this when I get a hold of you!”

It disappears for a moment as it swings around a bend and Sulenera lets out a pathetic whine, wondering how long it will take for her to gather all the meager belongings in her room when Lavellan sends her packing. She finds her fiendish friend around the bend, but it is not alone. The little thing is pressed up against a dirt wall and staring to her right, eyes bigger than ever and mouth open in surprise. “What are you-”

She hears the low growl before she turns to face a new addition to Arlathan’s fauna. It is a massive beast with teeth too big for its mouth and thick whiskers sparking with electricity dangling from its snout. Six eyes blink at her and narrow and she feels sick, stuck to the spot by the way it licks its lips like she is will be a tasty snack. 

A little whimper from the tiny thief at her side shocks Sulenera back into action and she remembers that she has seen scarier creatures than this before. Slowly she reaches for her marc and quickly types in the commands to bring up her holo projector. With one last push of a button, another creature springs up between them. It is a recording of a wyvern, scales of light glistening gold and red, and twice as big and loud as the monster hunting her now. It balks at the projection and gives a testing growl that’s only lost in the wyvern’s sharp cry. Smartly deciding that this meal might not be worth the struggle, it gives an annoyed huff and hops into the brush and out of sight. 

Sulenera lets the video cycle through another time before she ends the projection. With the adrenaline wearing away, she slumps back against the wall behind her and slides down to wait until her heart slows down from hyper speeds. The forest is quiet and content with the sounds of animals that remain hidden somewhere and thankfully none of them decide to come out and greet her too. Maybe she should have stayed with the ship after all.

Something bumps into her arm and she looks down to see her new companion holding out the stolen tool with a face grateful and relieved. “Thanks.” She takes the peace offering and they both sigh, heads tilting back to catch their breaths.

Officially, no one needs to know about this either.

art by [destinapostasy](http://destinyapostasy.tumblr.com/)


	17. Log Entry 13

The nearby lift takes them up to the level where Harel waits, but it is still a long walk through hallways and cobweb covered rooms.  All the while images of the Elvhen parade across Keela’s vision like a holo novel. She hears wisps of conversations about festivals and battle formations, of duty rosters and smelly socks left under someone’s bunk. If she closes her eyes she can picture herself upon _Haven’s_  decks or the levels of her clanship. Yet the Elvhen are so different too, tall with accents that she’s only heard from one person before and wrapped in armor that belongs in a museum. 

They come across the first signs of damage to the ship as they enter what appears to be part of engineering. Debris litters every surface and a patch of sticky foam covers a hole upon one of the walls. When they make their way across a rickety catwalk there’s a groan and a pop as the metal beneath shivers. The ship may be in excellent condition all things considered, but it is still something ancient.

“Go, go-” The whole thing gives a gigantic jolt before it snaps and falls. Shale wraps around Keela like a ball, blocking out all the light around but not stopping her stomach from flying into her throat. In a short breath they crash to the ground, bumping and rolling and through Shale’s protection she can hear the loud clatter of metal, cries and curses. The A.I. unravels around her and with dust blinking into her eyes, Keela looks upon the damage. 

Their trunk of trinkets lays overturned and spilled across the floor. Wiring is caught around The Iron Bull’s horns that Krem is carefully unraveling while Varric seems stuck on a piece of scaffolding on its side. She’s glad to see everyone moving and breathing, thankful that the drop wasn’t something larger.

Carver is the first to shoot up from the mess and dashes over to help Merrill stand. A gentle hand brushes away the hair from her dirtied face only to disappear a second later as he seems to realize what he’s done. “I…Are you all right?”

The science officer doesn’t look any worse for wear and laughs at the damage all around. “I believe so. Lucky that.”

“Yeah we’re all just dandy thanks for asking,” Varric says, somehow wearing a grimace and a smile at the same time as he pushes against a beam trapping him in place.

“Oh, let me help!”

“Nah take your time, Casanova.”

With The Iron Bull’s help, Carver manages to pull the famous producer for the pile of rubble. It takes a bit of a longer time to clean up all the cargo that spilled across the floor. As Keela watches from the support of Shale’s arms the world around her melts like hot wax and reforms into something else, somewhere else. Laughter fills the air as flowers litter the floor. They’ve fallen from the basket overturned in her grip when she turned the corner and ran into him on accident. 

At first she is afraid but the General is kind, apologizes for his absent mind and offers assistance. Together they pick up every petal, talking like treasured friends all the while, and with a little shake to her fingers she presents him with one of her favorite blooms. She’ll always remember his smile, the way his eyes closed for a moment as he breathed in its sugary scent, and how he placed it inside his pocket next to the rows of medals upon his chest.

He’ll never forget finding her months later with the smell of copper in the air as blood spread beneath her body and how it felt like no flowers would ever take root in his heart again.

They are no longer in the engine room when Keela comes back to the present. The hallway they are in now is white like the cabins of the Elvhen ship they found in the debris field. She can’t remember how long ago that was. Weeks? Hours? Years? Time is slipping through her fingers as she drifts between memories, but there is one constant growing between everything.

“It’s him,” she says, barely a whisper of noise that only Shale hears.

“ _It is who, Captain?”_

“Harel, he’s…” She’s not exactly sure what he is but _there_ , in the present and the past, and each revelation is pushing them on a collision course that promises to leave no survivors. Yet she wants that end, wants to explode into a thousand tiny fragments instead of feeling so full of things not hers to hold. She wants to know what made dark his eyes when they once shined so bright. 

“Look!” Ahead, Merrill shoots into one of the side rooms with Carver close on her heels. Inside appears to be a storage room with boxes neatly stacked upon shelves and a few laying askew across the floor. Merrill is already crouched down and looking through one and when Shale enters the science officer pops back up with a marc laying across her hand - one that looks exactly like Keela’s.

“It must be hundreds of years old but it looks brand new. Much better shape than yours, Captain. No offense. There’s a whole box of them here.”

“So hers isn’t the only one? And this-” Varric twists his wrist, flashing his own marc. “this is what, a second generation of something that was supposed to be brand new?”

“So Corypheus Industries didn’t make them and Elves did?” Carvers asks. It seems an impossibility, but the growing evidence is literally staring them in the face this time. “Maybe they were inspired? He found a stash like this once?”

“Their founder never mentioned my people at all,” Merrill says with her eyes glued upon the device in hand and Keela can see her mind working without words. “Maybe…”

“No!” she shouts, or attempts to. The effort is enough as everyone jumps to hear her loud and clear again. “Don’t you dare put it on, that’s an order.”

“Oh, of course, I-I’ll just take one back to study if that’s all right? I might be able to figure out how it works and get yours removed!” Keela doesn’t have the energy to argue with that, nor the cruelty to dash the hope and excitement on her friend’s face.

“We’re almost there,” she says instead, seeing the map of the ship in her mind and feeling the pull of the marc all the way in her bones. “Please…”

“ _We will hurry, Captain.”_

The next room they stumble across is where she saw Harel last although he doesn’t appear to be anywhere in sight. It opens up into a large dome with dozens of dead monitors against the one side and rows of console stations spread below. Towards the center of the room is a singular chair raised up high above everything else.

“Looks like the command center,” Carver remarks. “Don’t see the Flight Lieutenant. What should we do now?”

“The captain’s seat…take me there.”

The leather of it is soft and comfortable, worn in places of most use but cared for over the years, and Keela doesn’t have to wonder who once sat here. It smells like him. Somehow, centuries later, it smells like him and she can’t know if it’s real or the memory of scent, but she knows Harel sat here once all the same. There is an area upon the left arm, long and rectangular in shape - a perfect port to place her marc. When she drops the device down the command deck comes alive. Lights flare upon consoles, chirps and beeps bounce off the walls, and the monitors burst with static like a raging snowstorm. The blizzard fades away, layer by layer, until the images below can be seen. 

A city floats in the air. Elves walk its ivory streets between giant palm trees and gold tipped rooftops. There is laughter and singing, birds with blazing colored feathers soaring above. The feelings of happiness and home warm Keela’s chest at the sight of it all, but there is another sensation growing and it is one she knows well. The screens flash and show a glistening ship travelling through space. The Elvhen climbed mountains, lifted them up towards the skies to make their greatest cities. Their gaze was always set upon the sky, yearning for adventure and the vastness of possibilities. 

For hundreds of years they explore and find hundreds of worlds along the way. They leave enormous eluvians behind so they may travel to and fro as quick as it takes to take a step so the empire of the Elvhen stretches across the galaxy. Upon one world they find sentient life almost exactly like them. Humans, Shemlen the Elves call them, for they are quick and excitable things, prone to dramatics and loud conversations, and they are all too relieved to meet these new friends with their powerful ships and stories of an unspoiled home.

Because theirs is dying.

The air chokes them, the water poisons them. So many have died from pestilence, famine and war, but those that have survived are strong, determined. She feels the pity of the Elves, the desire to help and save what is left. It is decided that they will invite the Shemlen into their home to live, to thrive, to start over, and joy and pride sweeps over Keela as she watches thousands and thousands of humans loaded onto ships and taken through a rippling eluvian towards a brighter future. 

“What is this? Is it some movie?” Carver asks.

“It is history,” Keela says and there is a cadence to her voice that is no longer hers. Every Elvhen taking up space in her mind wishes to speak all at once, scorching her throat with their urgency.

“But it’s not right. The Elves came to Thedas and tried to take over the planet. There was a war. Everybody learns it in school. There’s memorials and museums and everything.”

It is Deshanna’s voice that echoes through her thoughts this time. “Only the victorious live to tell the tales.”

Humans build cities beneath those of the Elvhen, towers always growing higher and higher to reach such lofty heights. For years there is a peace between the races. Knowledge is shared between them, homes open in welcome as they work to make the human’s homeworld livable again, but then something else begins to grow too - prejudices, envy, hatred. Demands are made instead of entreaties and the reach of the Shemlen persists like a parasitic weed. They do not want to leave, but they want and want and want.

Slowly, they begin to take more and more, entwining through everything until one day the Elvhen find themselves strangled. There is war. The Shemlen bring their ruin through blood and bombs, and the shock and rage of it ignites inside Keela’s veins. The great cities, Mythal, Elgar’nan, Sylaise, Dirthamen, Andruil, Ghilan’nain, June, Falon’Din, fall from the sky and her people burn, betrayed from within and without. The eluvians are poisoned then shattered, stranding thousands across the galaxy to die alone. The saviors of the Shemlen are stripped of their technology, their culture, their identity, their truths, their home.

Centuries pass. Monuments to made up histories rise, false tales are written down in books made of the ashes of those who cannot speak. Elvhen children are told it was their ancestors who crossed the stars and waged war, that their homeworld is lost somewhere in the endless void, when all along it has always been the earth beneath their feet.

The command center falls into a stunned silence. Even the voices inside Keela’s head have quieted, waiting, like the breath drawn in before the scream. She can feel them pressing in even closer, pushing against the locked doors of their prison until the wood is creaking in protest. 

It is Merrill that speaks and the souls inside the marc croon to hear one of their own speak a truth that has been hidden for too long. “This world isn’t Arlathan, is it? It’s _Thedas_.”


	18. Log Entry 14

_Thedas_.

It is a symphony sung by the chorus of lost souls in her mind. Keela feels their sorrow to relive the memories, their joy to finally be remembered, but above all she feels their rage. It is a stampede of a thousand hooves pounding the ground and she doesn’t try to hold her ground or escape - she joins them, leads them onward. Her life has been a lie. She thinks of all the Dalish in their ships searching for a lost home that have been deceived, herself as a little girl gazing out at the cosmos from her small window and never feeling a part of it, and it is _their_ fault.

_The Shemlen must pay._

“What’s happening?” Carver says as her body begins to glow. The green lines of the marc race up her arm and up her neck, across to the other side. They surge through the vines of her vallaslin and fill in the lines of her golden eyes until she is a shining beacon. “Captain! Captain, are you all right?”

He reaches for her and the biotics of her body react, bursting out with electric power that throws him half across the room. She hears Merrill’s cry, smells ozone and burnt armor, feels the shock of what she’s done, but it’s all muted and far away, like she does not exist here but hundreds of years ago and hundreds of worlds away. The power in her veins grows outward in a crackling bubble and every panel and screen touched by it comes to life. The floor rumbles as the ancient engines wake from their slumber. She can see every part of the ship again, can feel its breath moving in and out, and knows what it was bred for.

It is a warship. A world destroyer. A great and terrible creation of the Elvhen people - _Fen’Harel_ , the Dread Wolf. 

The voices all sing the same thing, urging her to seek revenge, and reveal why they truly brought her here. _Burn the betrayers. _Burn them all!__

“No!” It tears from her throat. That is not what she wants. She wants justice, not vengeance. She wants those responsible for keeping this secret for so long to pay for their actions, for the world to know the truth and for her people to be exhumed from ashes, but not to see one world destroyed to make room for another. It has been done once. It must never be done again. 

Keela resists. She turns around in the tide and pushes back, screams to drown out the marc’s voices. They pause, startled, before trying to smother and seep into the cracks of her mind to bend it to their will, but she will break before she submits. She can’t let this vessel get off the ground and be responsible for thousands, millions of deaths, even if it must cost her own. The truth will not die with her - Merrill and the others know what she does and she hopes they will find a way to speak for the voiceless. 

Pain laces through her skull and shoots down her veins, but she doesn’t stop fighting. The room grows hazy in a mix of emerald and steel swirling together and something drips on the ground below her. Red- blood, her own, clotted thick. Everything is becoming cold and dark, quiet as her ancestors recede away, and she thinks of Antiva City and cobbled streets she’ll never see, of the Fenrir Nebula now forever out of reach. 

Something warm wraps around her chin. Red and green and silver melt into blue, familiar and bright. The world focuses for a moment and she recognizes Harel kneeling there in her blood. She should wonder where he’s been but there is only relief to see him and to feel oblivion drifting away again at his touch. Her voice sounds wrong after hearing so many others. “You, how…you always bring me back. How?”

Keela feels his touch against the back of her hand next and glances down at the marc. It is calm now with a gentle hum against her skin and she feels something else, like a pull begging her to draw closer to him, and knows without any voice needing to tell her so. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I thought it to be lost forever, believed the same for this ship as well.  I am sorry for the pain you have endured. The marc…you should not have survived the initial contact with the amount of protection I placed upon it. That you have at all, and for so long, is remarkable.”

“Was that a pun?”

He laughs, smile strained but affectionate. “Unintended.”

“I can still hear them. I can always hear them now.”

Harel runs his hand over the metal. “These devices let us communicate without the need for words. We could hear each other’s thoughts, live in one another’s dreams, relive the memories of those that came before us. Never alone nor forgotten, we were as one. It was our most precious technology and one we did not share with the shemlen, but what ultimately led to our destruction. The secret was taken, our bond severed. Without our conscious connection to one another we could not stand against the might of our enemies. And it was all my doing.”

When the marc takes her this time it is gentle, a brush a cool fingertips against the back of her skull. She blinks and the world bleeds away to a bright, white room. A large polished desk sits with Thedas, _Arlathan_ , filling the windows behind. She can see explosions in the void of space and on the planet below even from this distance. A battle rages, one the Elvhen were doomed to lose. Something heavy and harsh holds onto her shoulders and she looks up from the floor to find armored soldiers clamping her in place upon her knees.

A man stands watching the slaughtering of her people. Tall and broad of shoulder, suit expensive and perfectly tailored. A large, golden ring upon one finger and she knows it carries the seal of Sidereal - the organization that for so long was praised and respected as the saviors of mankind against the invaders. None more so than the man before her now, the orchestrator of their fall, the conductor of their sorrow.

She feels betrayal like hot coals behind her eyes, but it is the sharp slice of shame that cuts tears loose down her cheeks. When she speaks it is in a voice not her own but one she knows - Harel’s, broken and trembling. “Sethius, why? Why! I gave you my trust. I gave you the orb to keep it safe, not to use against us. You promised to help save my people!”

The shemlen turns and walks forward with an object in his left hand, with green lines like a fingerprint swirling around. She has seen it before but now knows what it is, what it holds inside. Sethius stops in front of her and bends forward with a smile cold and quiet. “When did I say that I would save you? I said I would end this war. I never said it would be in your favor. You should have been more careful with your toys.”

He passes the focus from palm to palm. “All your security codes, all the plans for your prized technology. All the secrets your kind refuse to share with us while we waste away in your shadow. With this it took only a few key strokes to bring your great cities down and severe your connection to one another. With this now in the right hands, Corypheus Industries will lead our new world towards prosperity for those that are deserving. I’m sorry you won’t be around to see it, my friend. Take his marc and kill him.”

She twists away, fighting with a surge of stubborn strength, but the knife still finds its way between her ribs. It feels like a punch until she sees the blade pull away covered in red and then it is searing, stealing away her breath as her lung floods. Electric waves of light dance across eyes wavering, so much so she barely sees the explosion that happens next. It slams her into the far wall and then all she knows is pain that grips and tears at her like viscous teeth.

_“No, the orb! Don’t let them take it you fools!”  
_

_“Hurry, hurry!”  
_

_“Get them!”_

She sees flashes of things - smoking debris, corridors, the glistening gold of an Elvhen ship, dark eyes and blood covered hands.

_“He’s bleeding out, he will not last until we reach the others.”  
_

_“We must put him in uthenera. The suspension is the only way he will be saved. General…hold on.”_

The fiery pain calms with the cool touch of cryo until her limbs are numb and her eyes heavy. Tears begin to freeze on her skin, heavy things, but not as heavy as her heart. It is full of failure and grief and the last she remembers thinking before they finally disconnect her marc and drive her under and into a bottomless sleep is _what have I done?_

The tears fall freely when she wakes to the present. “Now you know my great crime. I was false with you - I did not live within the Korcari Expanse. Those that rescued me were followed and destroyed but they were able to save me through deception. I drifted through space for hundreds of years until I was found by a Dalish aravel. I awoke to this world of my own failings, to what my foolishness allowed. You cannot imagine-”

This time it is Keela that offers comfort, lifting her hand to cradle his jaw. “I can. I understand.”

He watches her, stunned into silence, before he allows himself a moment to lean into her touch with eyes closed. She wonders when the last time he felt such a thing - before the world fell, or after? Is there a memory like this one inside the marc somewhere? Has he endured this pain alone for so long?

“Of course. You are the only one that could.” Harel opens his eyes. The longing she finds there warms her skin, but there is regret too that twists his brows down and aches in her heart. “I could not save them, but I will save you.” 

He presses his fingers to the marc again and her body seizes against her will. The lines of electricity on her skin flare, every inch of them burning. The voices roar like a fast approaching engine, growing louder and louder, louder than ever before. Everything rushes together until she feels like a ship upon re-entry too far off kilter, but she doesn’t explode.

With a final whirl and a snap, the marc around her wrist lets go and Keela plummets through the ship, through the planet’s core and beyond. She hears his voice before oblivion swallows her up, a whisper against her cheek, the only voice left in the darkness. 

_Forgive me for what I must do next._

_ _

_Art by[Dalishious](http://dalishious.tumblr.com/commissions) _


	19. Log Entry 15

Merrill watches as the ancient marc finally releases the captain and she slumps forward with sudden unconsciousness, but the Flight Lieutenant is there to catch her before she tumbles out of the chair. He gently carries her towards them and deposits her into Iron Bull’s waiting arms, pauses to brush strings of hair from her face, and Merrill thinks it would be quite romantic if not for…everything else. 

Her mind is abuzz with the knowledge learned today, the impossible, horrible scale of it all. It’s hard to compute and she’s good with numbers. They’re easy, straight forward, likable despite their lack of social skills. They don’t lie- it’s only our flawed interpretation of them that causes problems. Of course, space numbers are difficult because you must account for physics, and those laws get bent almost everyday and…where was she going with this?

Templar Hawke finally stirs in her arms and centers her thoughts again. Technically he’s not in her arms - he’s too bulky and heavy for that exactly, but Merrill manages to squeeze herself underneath his shoulders to support his head. Her heart felt electrocuted when she watched him careen across the room to lay too still. Bright blue eyes gaze up at her now although they’re dimmed a little by disorientation and he gives her a big, goofy smile. “Hi.”

“Uh, hello? How do you feel? Can you-”

“You’re so pretty.”

She can feel her ears burning. “Oh dear.”

“Wait, Harel-” but it’s too late for Varric Tethras’ plea as the lieutenant attaches the captain’s marc to his own arm. Or, she supposes, it was always his. Harel lets out of a strangled sound but she doesn’t think it’s from pain. Not the pain that the captain felt anyways but something else - it sounds like relief and remorse rolled into one and she wonders what he must be feeling, what he must be seeing. Probably what was shown to them but different in a way, since for her it was something new. For him, it’s all a memory. They all saw snippets of Harel in the video feed even if it seems impossible.

All this time and she had an ancient elvhen so close. Oh, the questions she has to ask, but she doubts there will be any time for them soon. Or ever. There are tears on his cheeks and she feels them burning in her throat too, but there’s an inferno growing in his eyes that she can’t match. It reminds her of the way Lavellan had looked, full of a thousand years of rage, before she screamed and started, well,  _dying_  again. Harel doesn’t look in danger though. He looks dangerous.

Merrill isn’t the only one to notice. “You all right there, Harel?”

He glances up at Varric’s voice, surprised, like he forgot there was anyone else on deck. The look of recognition only lasts for a moment before his expression closes. There is no answer given. He turns away from them all and sits in the now empty chair and once again the ship bursts to life. She can tell by the way the engines hum that he is prepping them for take off, but to where and what end she can’t be certain. They are months and months away from any known inhabited planet, station or Dalish clan.

Merrill gently lets go of Hawke’s head and begins to bring up programs on her marc - scans of the ship, codes to try and weasel into the system and take a peek at what Harel might be up to. It’s difficult, but she has studied ancient elvhen almost all her life and now there is more of it swarming about her head than a few tattered phrases and broken pieces of glass. She remembers her earlier thoughts - numbers, numbers, numbers. Maybe she can make an algorithm…

As Merrill plots away  _Fen’Harel’s_ powerful engines surge, breaking roots and vines and lifting the massive ship off the ground for the first time in ages. They rise and rise through the thick air and cluttered clouds until there is darkness and starlight. Thedas stays close in sight as they travel in a low orbit around the planet and get a better glimpse of the true shemlen homeworld. There are pockets of brilliant blue and green dotting the surface among darker areas still under the plague of progress. Merrill looks for a brief moment and wonders if she might be wrong - it might be less than a hundred years before it can support whole life again, especially if-

“What’s that? Space station?” Iron Bull says. Ahead there is a flash, an edge catching in the light swimming through blackness. Whatever it is grows larger and larger the closer they approach, something massive in its own right. Something bigger than a space station. “A…moon?”

“No,” Merrill whispers, all her attention away from her marc now and on what they’re approaching. Not a moon, not a sphere at all. The object rotates and comes into full view and she gasps, hears it echo as everyone else in the room does the same.

An enormous eluvian slowly spins, a frame of faded gold and its glass like surface reflecting space like a dark void distorted. As they grow ever nearer there is a whirling noise from the ship a second before something launches from it and barrels towards the eluvian. At first Merrill’s heart leaps in her throat at the thought that Harel might destroy it, but instead of splintering apart the surface of the portal absorbs the energy and begins to glow. It awakes just like the one in her lab, which means somewhere there is another one just like it, and as the ship continues forward without slowing it seems like they are going to find out just where that is.

“He’s going to take us through,” she says loud enough for the others to hear.

Krem shakes his head. “But the others on  _Haven…”_

“ _Flight Lieutenant Harel, state your intentions_ ,” Shale demands and begins to approach. A barrier springs up between them all and Harel, something made of light and force that sizzles through the air. The A.I. reaches for it, pushes against it with all the force in its advanced chassis, but it remains. “ _This is most vexing. We cannot leave._ ” 

“Looks like we definitely are, Gadget,” Varric says as the eluvian looms close. ‘Hold tight.”

Merrill wraps her arm around Carver’s chest and holds her breath too as the nose of the ship breaches the surface. Everything shatters around them, stars breaking and warping, colors making strange shapes and blooming into new constellations, and she would think it’s all very loud out there if one could hear through the vacuum of space and time.

When they emerge she lets out her breath but forgets to take another at what awaits them now. Hundreds and hundreds of ships soar through a violent cosmos made of nebula and electricity. Ships small and large, Dalish aravels and unmarked vessels, some that look Orlesian and Ferelden and even Tevene. Some that look like they’ve been pieced together from several different ships. No matter their port of origin they all share one similar thing it seems - they are all bred for war, mounted with guns and rockets, advanced shields and disruptors. An armada wild and untamed like the roiling, dangerous world around it.

Merrill doesn’t need complex calculations or codes to find out where they are now. Her marc happily announces their location, but she can’t believe it. ‘It’s the Expanse. We’re inside the Korcari Expanse! They must be elves.”

Their view shifts and a face appears upon a few of the screens. It is a woman, an elf, the lines of her vallaslin a design Merrill has never seen before. She says something in Elvhen, a greeting perhaps, that Harel answers in kind. “How soon?” he asks. 

“Within the day. We have long since been preparing for this.” Bright eyes skim over him and glance their way. “You have stowaways, it seems. What shall be done with them?”

At last, Harel turns and acknowledges them again. There is no warmth there, no recognition, not until Iron Bull shifts the captain in his arms and draws his attention. The Flight Lieutenant lifts his marc to make commands and there is a beam of light that fills the room again but instead of a shield it coalesces into a mortal shape, a projection tall and long of ear. When the hologram is complete it is difficult to tell that its smooth skin and curled hair is anything but flesh and blood, especially as it smiles and blinks and breathes.

It steps through the force field and makes a welcoming gesture. “Please, follow me and I will be glad to tend to any of your needs.”

They all turn to Merrill and with a jolt she realizes that now she is the highest ranking, conscious member of the crew here. She swallows, sparing a glance at Harel to see only the back of his again as he converses with the woman in a language lost to her ears. He’ll be no help anymore and they can’t stay here. Even if he isn’t looking she knows she won’t be able to poke around, to try and understand what’s happening. Perhaps somewhere else they can manage to do that. 

She just hopes that somewhere else doesn’t end up being the trash compactor. “Okay then. Shale, help me with Serah Hawke please?”

* * *

“Captain? Hey, she’s waking up.” 

Keela emerges from the darkness to silence. There is noise all around her- the sound of an engine, stubborn beeps of some machine nearby, conversations floating and fighting, but it is too quiet. She thinks that she is truly deaf, that all she can hear are the remnant memories of sound before even those fade away.

“Captain Lavellan, can you hear me?” an unfamiliar someone says, here and now, and yet everything feels _wrong_.

The voices are gone, she realizes. They pushed in, pressing against the sides of her mind until it felt close to tearing, and now she has been left alone in the expanse they made, left empty when she was full. If she shouts even the echo would never reach her again but she wants to scream, to fill some part of this aching void. She can’t be only one. She can’t, she can’t-

“Captain?” Merrill’s touch is light but it’s a shock all the same, like the pulse of a heavy heart beat bringing her back to life. It takes a moment to register what she’s seeing when she looks down to find the science officer’s hand on her exposed arm. For almost two years the marc has been a constant companion and now to see it gone is like finding a parking lot where a building used to be the day before.

She struggles to find the way to make the right words, to peel back all the flaking layers and find her own voice again, and when she does it sounds strange, hollow. “Where are we? What’s happened?”

Merrill shares a look with someone over Keela’s head. “Well, after you-”

“Please, allow the patient some time to acclimate. Her system has been through quite an ordeal,” says that voice again and this time Keela turns to try and locate it. To her left is another elf with auburn hair and dark eyes, a smile she has seen on many nurses and doctors faces throughout her years of service. 

“Who are you?”

“ _It is a holographic projected A.I. whose intentions are still suspect, commanded by someone who also requires extra diagnosis at this time,_ ” Shale answers instead, looming large in the corner of her eye.

The new A.I. tuts gently. “My name is Alwa, if it pleases you. I have repaired much of the cortical damage that was inflicted. It was a somewhat difficult challenge. You are clearly elvhen but none like I have seen. Even so, using another’s  _masrecovi_  without permission has always been something frowned upon.” 

“Masrecovi? You mean the marcs?” Merrill questions.

Alwa nods. “If that is the name now given.” 

Keela takes a breath and lifts herself. She feels slow, heavy, like an after image chasing after the real thing, and sits with her eyes closed until the world returns to focus again. There’s a dull beating in the back of her brain but she feels better than she has in days, weeks. Across the room another body lays in a bed similar to her own and it is difficult at first to recognize Templar Hawke without the heavy gear of his station.

“Is he all right? What happened?”

“Don’t you remember? He tried to help you and your biotics reacted,” Merrill says.

“Threw him across the room like a bean bag,” The Iron Bull adds.

“I don’t remember,” Keela admits. She can remember the voices and Harel’s cool touch on her face, the loud snap of the marc finally letting her go, but there are other things too hazy to see clearly.

“The Shemlen will be fine,” Alwa says. “He suffered a minor concussion and burns on his chest and neck. I have prescribed him a sleeping draught so he may rest and recover.”

“What happened after that? After I-” Keela glances down at her wrist and it is all too surreal still. “I must have lost consciousness.”

“After you fell unconscious, Harel lifted us off and took us through a massive eluvian in low orbit,” Merrill reveals. “It was most impressive. Oh, and we’re back in our quadrant! We were in the Korcari Expanse but-”

“We’ve left? What about the rest of the crew?”

“He left them there. It’s just us. There were ships here when we popped through though, tons and tons and tons.”

“Warships,” Bull clarifies. “Looks like whatever the elves here could piece together from all those failed raids. We started moving again about two hours ago. Us and them. All of them, looks like.”

“To where?” Keela asks, but already knows.

“If we stay on this course we’ll reach Thedas in less than half an hour. Oh, I guess…Arlathan, after all that,” Merrill answers. “What do you think he has planned?”

Varric lets out a laugh. “What do you think? You don’t go to a tea party in full combat gear. My best guess is that he’s about to write a very bloody page for future history books and humans are the ink.”

 _Burn them all_. The words are still there, etched into her forever even if the fury of them is beginning to fade. “Have you called Command? Warned them? They have to know-”

“ _Flight Lieutenant Harel is blocking all attempts at communication,”_ Shale interrupts with news she doesn’t want to hear. _“In addition, this vessel and several others appear to be making a cloaking net. It is unlikely our forces will be able to respond in time unless visuals are made. They will be…fucked, I do believe is the correct term.”_

Keela remembers the memory of being chased by a shemlen ship. There was a way to see through the elvhen illusions, but that knowledge is not something rattling in her mind anymore, if it ever was. They need to get word to the fleet, to Tevinter or Orzammar or anywhere that might be listening. Varric is right - this will be no gentle coupe with no possibilities for terms around a polished table. If those inside the marc have taken hold of Harel as they almost took hold of her, there will be nothing left but ash. 

Bull pushes himself off the wall nearby. “So what’s the plan? We tried snooping around but this place is locked down pretty tight. Doubt we’ll be able to storm the control deck and didn’t bring any heavy weapons for that anyways. Sabotage? May be able to make a few dirty bombs out of the shit in here.”

“I would like to formally protest against that course of action,” Alwa says, looking distressed.  

“Running out of time, Boss. Whatever it is we gotta do it fast.”

Keela doesn’t know what should be done. All she knows is she wants to sleep for years and years, to wake up with salt in the air and dig her toes into warm sand. It is what Harel wanted once too, she remembers. There was a beach uncluttered by death and decay in his memories, free of the sticky tar of vengeance clogging desires and guilt like glass underfoot. She needs to break him free like he did for her but she has no control of that marc anymore, no way to cut through the voices-

A thought strikes through her, bright and loud and likely foolish, but it’s the clearest one she’s had yet. “Merrill, where’s your bag?”


	20. Final Log Entry

They leave the medical ward despite Alwa’s many protests, but the A.I. doesn’t move to stop them. Keela leads the way with the map of the ship still fresh in her mind and her thoughts trying to plan for every way this could go wrong. The best weapon she has is the knowledge of the marc, of what the voices want and how easily it is to fall under their spell. She can only pray that Harel can be reached, that his voice is not one of theirs from the start.

“Here.” She stops them at a wide intersection and points towards the right. “The lift is that way. Two floors down then left. Whatever you do, do it all at once. He’ll know.”

“Good luck, Boss.” 

Her crew separates with only Merrill and Varric following in her wake now. They take the path back to the command station with only the science officer’s pack to carry. Keela takes a breath before the closed doors to prepare herself against the thought of facing him, of facing whatever the voices might have made him. The fate of their world might be at stake and she can’t falter no matter the cost.

“I’ve translated the Elvhen code,” Merrill announces. “I’ll just need a few moments to make the program.”

“Stay back so he stays focused on me,” she says and pushes herself over the threshold.

Harel stands in front of the main bank of consoles and gazes up at the expanse of screens above. Images of his massive fleet fill most of the space, but there is also the planet spinning bright and big across a few. He doesn’t acknowledge their presence and she wonders if he doesn’t know or if he doesn’t care but her question is answered when she brushes fingers across the force field keeping them apart and he doesn’t turn at the loud static noise it creates.

“Harel?” she calls to him and watches his hand hover before returning to its tasks. “No, not Harel. Solas.”

A shiver runs through his body at that and he turns his head in her direction. There is a moment of thought, a struggle with the voices maybe, before he presses a button and the field shatters apart. When she steps passed the captain’s chair she hears it spring back to life again but it doesn’t matter - that he’s allowed her inside might be enough.. 

“I know it all, or the parts that matter. They made you the captain of this ship when the war began. You didn’t want to use it because you knew what destruction it would bring so you tried to find a way towards peace.” She steps up to his side. “You trusted the wrong person.”

He closes his eyes but she can see the pain in the way they crinkle, in the frown that pulls his lips down. “Yes. I doomed my people, and their children, and their children’s children.” He glances up, traces the lines of her face with his heavy gaze. “And you. No amount of penance could be enough for what I have done.”

“But enough suffering will? You knew this was wrong from the start-”

“No. It is what I should have done then. It is what must be done now.” He pulls an object from his side, round but scored through with lines like a thumbprint, and she knows what it is. The orb taken from him so long ago. “I had my agents recover it from  _Corypheus Industries_  poisonous grasp. I will use it as they once did for they were foolish enough to link their new marcs to this device as well. Their stolen technology will be a beacon for  _Fen’Harel’s_  weapons.”

Keela reaches for him as he begins to move away and places her hand over his heart. “I know how strong they are, but don’t listen to them. Let the dead rest, Solas. We can find a better way so that they are not forgotten, so that we get the justice we deserve.”

He is quiet for a moment, still, before lifting his hand and covering hers with it. His voice is a whisper when he speaks, wistful and full of too many wasted years. “I had almost forgotten the sound of it.”

“Of what?”

“Of my name. I must admit, I have wondered what it might be like to hear you say it.” A smile starts to bloom on his face, eyes clearing into that gentle blue she was just beginning to explore.

She returns his grin. “Come with me.”

“No. I...can’t.” Her hand falls as he steps away, stricken. 

“Solas-”

“No!” 

The familiar energy of the marc crackles over her skin, but she has no control over it this time. It wraps around her limbs, picks her off the floor and carries her beyond the barrier before she can even think to react with her own biotics to stop him. When his power lets her go, Keela lets out an irritated sigh to see him back to work once more.

“Plan B?” Varric says.

“Merrill?”

“Right, I’m ready. Here we-oh!” Her marc makes a whining noise before sparks jump from its surface. On its own it seems to leap from her arm and drops to the ground, circuits blaring loudly until all at once it goes silent. “Oh my, that’s not normal.” 

“And that’s definitely not good.” Varric gestures with his chin towards the front of the room where Harel,  _Solas_ , stands with the orb and his marc glowing green. The same thing happens to Tethras’ device when he tries to contact the others and Solas leaves their plans a smoldering ruin on the deck’s floor. “Shit.”

An automated voice echoes speaking Elvhen but Keela can guess what it is announcing. They are getting close and the lack of warning signals indicates that global defenses are still unaware of the apocalypse barreling their way. “He’s going to use all the marc to target humans, isn’t he?” Merrill guesses.

Keela wonders where he might stop. Shemlen, qunari, dwarves - will half elves be victims of this madness as well? How many elves will be lost in the cross fire? Who will be left standing after this ruin but those that brought it? She won’t be a part of it. Varric and Merrill watch as she digs into the science officer’s bag and pulls out their last resort. The ancient marc is a familiar thing in her hand, one she doesn’t want to remember, one she thought she could be free of once and for all, but the only voices Solas is listening to are the ones in his head and she needs to be there too. She defeated them once already and knows she can again, but it might be a mission with no return.

“What if the old marcs still don’t work like they used to? What if it was someone else’s?” Merrill asked when Keela first thought of the idea in the infirmary. “What if we were never really compatible?”

So many what-ifs to consider but Keela only cares about one: what if she doesn’t try?

“You sure about this, Captain?” Varric asks now.

“No,” she answers before taking a breath and strapping the marc around her wrist. As it snaps together there’s a moment of nothing until the device wakes from its long slumber and flares to life. The bright green overwhelms her sight, surges through her veins and shoots through every nerve. She’ll never forget the way Solas’ marc latched onto her like a vicious dog, tearing up her spine and clamping down upon her brain in a grip that slowly choked the life from her for years. 

This is different, a rush that doesn’t consume, a wave that gently pulls her under instead of throwing her against the rocks. This marc was no one’s and now it is  _hers_  even if the languages they speak overlap in some places instead of click. She can feel it through every inch of her body, see it in the way the lights across its surface dance for her, remembers how its mate across the room sang and she falls into the rhythm again. It is a relief to know this marc will not kill her, but it is no victory. Not yet. Not unless she can find him.

It is peaceful in her mind, solid. She lets her biotics thrum and reaches out, searches, and finds a point of contact. Voices whisper far away and she jerks away from their presence all writhing red and violent. She doesn’t want to hear them say her name ever again and grab her with their twisted thorns. Her mind wanders in another direction, into an inky blackness that’s cold and sticky. She fights her way through to find a sky on fire, a battlefield of ash and blood, and him kneeling amongst it all.

It is a memory she knows already, the last stand of an unfair fight, and she knows this is how they are caging him to their madness. Making him watch and live in the results of his failures so there is not fight left in his weary soul. Keela doesn’t try to rouse him from this or reach out and shake him free. She lets whatever power she has fill the spaces between them and  _pushes_  - pushes the voices as far away as she can, pushes this memory loose, pushes and pushes and pushes until she can pull him free into another one.

The beach is different now, soft and thrown in shadows even with the final stretches of the sun drifting over the ocean. Solas stands where she remembers him in that other, fleeting vision, the surf lapping at his ankles and darkening his trousers, his face tipped up just so towards the dying light. She knows the moment he realizes everything has changed when his body jolts and he takes a breath she can hear above the waves. His image doesn’t fly away in pieces as he turns to face her with fear of it all and faith in her churning across his features. 

“Keela. You should not be here.”

“But I am,” she says as she stops next to him. 

“You...must have found another masrecovi. You could not have known the risk. If the connection was restored. If it was already bonded to another-”

She places her hand over his heart again not really knowing why. It feels right, like something she read in a textbook somewhere. “You didn’t leave me any choice but to try.”

This time his fingers hold to hers tighter, trace the skin that is naked here but is now hidden behind another marc in the waking world. “When I first saw my marc upon your wrist I could not imagine how you survived its contact for so long. I wished to tell you the truth, but my mission could not tolerate any unforeseen complications and you...you complicate much.”

“Sweet talker.”

He laughs and despite the merriment in his voice she also hears the fatigue too. “I do not expect your forgiveness, but I am sorry nonetheless. For allowing you to suffer for so long. If I could-”

“I’m alive thanks to you. Let me help you in return. You don’t have to do this.”

“I am not _Corypheus_. I take no joy in what I must do, but the return of our people must mean the end of theirs.”

“I know this isn’t what you want. You would never have let me pass the shield if it was.” She gestures out over the peaceful ocean. “This is what you want, not that.”

With the way he looks at her now she thinks it’s not the only thing he wants. He allows himself to crumble just a little bit more, stepping closer until their hips brush, and the sunset beyond them seems to burn bright in a last moment of brilliance. As the last of its dying embers touch her shoulder she feels something else rising inside. Whispers, not the damning kind but his, echoes of memories like the first touch of snow upon skin, the thrill of a chase through the sky in his aircraft, the awe of a thousand stars so far and yet closer than ever, his more recent excitement when he discovers Sulenera shares an equal love of soaring through the heavens.

She feels more than sees the memory of them beneath the command deck when they were close, how he is trapped not by her but by the lies wrapping his tongue in knots when he wishes for it to be free for other pursuits, for a taste of something alive when he has been choking on ashes for so long. His loneliness pools deep and cold, but it shallows out when he plays a game of chess against The Iron Bull, when Varric gives him a copy of his newest book, when she falls into his lap and blushes. Keela isn’t sure how these marcs work but she pictures memories of her own - the excitement of combat pulsing in her veins, the peace to be found running through open streets, the way her heart beat wildly when they spent time in her quarters and for once it isn’t caused by the thing on her wrist.

“No,” he says at long last. “I do not want this. But the alternative...I cannot let the truth be forgotten. Our people deserve more.”

“I know and I have an idea. I think I can make this right. Come with me?”

After a moment his free hand moves to rest atop her heart too. “Yes.”

A wave flows over their feet, rises above them, and the memoryscape drifts apart. She can feel a resistance trying to pull them back, hears a rush of sound - the voices - trying to drown them in their ancient misery. It is a heavy temptation, promising power and calling to damaged roots, but they hold onto each other and ride back to the present with their heads high above the water.

“Captain?” Her eyes open to find Varric and Merrill close. “Did it work?”

They all look to find Solas at the front of the ship looking lost and found all at the same time. He takes a long breath before reaching over to his marc and inputting several commands. The force field between them fizzes out of existence. “I have lowered our cloak and called off the attack to await further orders.”

Relief spreads through Keela and she gives him a bright smile. She can see the tired lines etched into his face still, but there is the thought of rest after all this time smoothing edges. “And the others will follow you?”

“In order to coordinate the attack, they gave me remote control of their vessels for the moment. The confusion will buy us time although I suspect it will not last for long and there may be a few who do not take heed. If you truly have a plan, I suggest it is done with some urgency.”

“I do.” She reaches out and Varric and Merrill both help her up. They all walk towards the command consoles and when she’s close enough, Keela brushes her fingers against Solas’ as a gesture of comfort - for both of the now, she thinks. “That device, the orb. It is where you stored military codes and sensitive material. Like the frequency of the marcs.”

“Yes. There were several foci, one in each major city. They were linked to share information and acted as nodes to transport the marc signals. Only this one contained the information needed to control them and bring down our cities.” 

“You were planning to use the marcs to hone in on the shemlen so  _Fen’Harel’s_ weapons could find them easily. You destroyed Merrill and Varric’s marcs so you can send commands to them too. Can you send a message? To everyone?”

“I believe so. We would need to be closer and input a great deal more power to the communications systems first.”

“You want send a vid call? They have that emergency broadcast, goes out globally,” Varric adds. 

“I think it would be easy enough to hack into especially with that and all the things it’s supposed to do.” Merrill gestures to the orb. “What do you want to send?”

Almost a half an hour later alarms screech across the ship as they near the planet. Without their cloak their element of surprise no longer exists and there are a multitude of Orlesian and Ferelden forces that stand in their way. It is not them that Keela fears, nor the rogue Dalish vessels that have already tried to threaten this delicate peace. She fears that nothing will work, that if they are successful the world may not listen even then, but she still can do nothing but try.

“The fleet is hailing,” Solas announces.

“We need just a little bit more time,” Merrill says. 

Keela sits in the wide captain’s chair, fingertips running down the leather to ground herself. “Connect us.”

It is Orsino’s face that flashes across the screen as the call comes through. His stern expression wavers to see Keela at the helm. “Commander Lavellan, what is the meaning of this?”

“It’s Captain Lavellan now, Sir.”

“I...see. In any case, stand down your forces and prepare for terms-”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t comply. Someone tried to murder my crew so we couldn’t complete our mission. Until I know who is involved I can do no such thing. I will see this through.”

“You-you did it? You found Arlathan?” The barest hint of hope in his question is enough to remind her that this is the right thing to do.

“Captain, we’re ready.”

“No, I found the truth. Do it.” 

A few silent seconds pass before Orsino’s marc starts beeping and a chorus answers as others on the Ferelden ship start to react. Upon another screen a line branches out from  _Fen’Harel_  that connects with a satellite, then another, and another, until there are too many connections to count. Now the truth can’t be hidden no matter the web of lies spun around Thedas and Arlathan and their twisted histories.

“It’s working!” Merrill cries happily.

“What is this?” Orsino asks of the file now pulsing for attention on his device.

“What Deshanna gave her life for you to see.”

The Admiral takes stock of her for a moment more before finally accepting the message and letting it run. She knows exactly what he sees- two worlds coming together in time of need, betrayal and malice that tore them apart, lies and ignorance that has lasted far too long. They are the images that Merrill and Varric and the others witnessed when she first sat in this chair, a history without the vengeful spirits of her ancestors. She knows there will be enough chaos without their influences when all this is done.

As Orsino finishes the feed, she sees a little bit of it in his eyes already, in the way others come alive behind him with quick movement and raised voices and some are stricken still. There is something else building in his gaze, however, a feeling she knows deep in her heart but could never properly describe, like the way it feels to emerge from the darkest cave back into the light or to find your way back home after inhaling the fumes of travel for too long.

She watches screens light up with something like lightning strikes as more and more people receive and open their data streams, thousands and thousands and thousands that now see a truth that can no longer be hidden. She doesn’t know what new course will be set after this, what new world might come about in the wake of this mission, but she knows what will happen now. Solas looks at her from the across the room and gives a subtle nod at her attention while Merrill flashes a supportive smile. 

Keela turns and faces the screen again, faces the Thedosian and Dalish fleets and all the others that are watching, and knows that no matter what happens, she will do everything she can to make sure history doesn’t forget what happens this time. She will never stop trying. “We will be the ones to make terms.”

* * *

 

**Appendum: Personal Log Entry of Keela Lavellan**

Daylight breaks over Antiva City through a light rain that glistens off the glass wall of her apartment. The clouds won’t last long, she knows - the rising sun will chase them away to cast the city only in its warm rays. Toes curl beneath her when she remembers the feeling of sand between them yesterday. She got her wish, to run through the streets of this city and stand in its surf, but neither of those places are her destination for today. As she lays out the pieces of her formal uniform her eyes catch the news feed scrolling down on the street below.

_Corypheus Industries fully seized by Ferelden and Orlesian government two months after Arlathan revelations....General Stannard detained in wake of Haven investigations while Prime Minister da Chalons resigns over Arlathan allegations....Riots in Val Royeaux’s alienage still continue with the death toll rising and-_

Hands brush over her sides and settle as Solas slides in behind her. His nose brushes away the hair from her neck before planting a kiss behind her ear like a soft secret. Tomorrow she will stand before a tribunal and finally, formally give her account of all that happened, but today should be for other pursuits. For _them_. “Are you worried?”

Keela watches the scroll continue with more results of her decisions and feels the grip of every extra report wrap around her limbs. “Do you think I made the right choice?”

“I am not sure I am the best to answer such a question, considering my previous choices.” 

She turns in his embrace to make sure the amusement in his voice also tugs at his lips, and gives him a push back when she does find it. “Ass.”

He is quick to sober to sincerity. “You were not alone in making it. Take comfort in that, if nothing else. I do not think the others will leave you to any undue fate, nor do I have any such plans.” Fingers follow the sweeping lines of her vallaslin. “I would stay far closer, if you would have it.”

“I would.”

“It could lead to trouble.”

The smile grows on his face again and she laughs at the thought, at the long history of trouble already between them that stretches across centuries and light years. The small space between them, here in this room, seems like no distance at all. “I’m willing to take that chance, if you are.”

“Yes. There is one mystery I would have solved first, however.”

“Oh?”

“When  _Haven_  was sabotaged and I was unconscious for a few minutes, was it merely a dream that you tried to rouse me with a kiss?”

The sunlight spills through the windows with more urgency now, but it is another heat that warms her cheeks to think of it, a memory that seems so long ago and in some other world. “Are you saying you can’t remember a kiss from me?”

“Perhaps, if you would be so inclined to enlighten my memory...”

She does feel so inclined as she leans forward and presses her lips to his. The memory of his marc is fading far away to be replaced by each new caress and new experience, and the weight of his breath, his body against hers, is one she has no problems carrying this time. This is something they have both chosen, a collision faced head on, and she has begun to hope that whatever comes they will always face it together.

“Remember yet?” she asks when they part.

“I do believe so, although further studies could be conducted.”

“I agree.” She curls her hand into his and tugs him deeper into the room. “Right after you finally translate what you said to me before cryo.”

“As you wish.”


End file.
